Mask for Mask: The Power of Persona… or the Lack Thereof

We are always wearing masks. Sometimes literal — makeup, costumes, stage names, usernames. Sometimes invisible — sarcasm, confidence, aloofness, ambition. But we all have them. We all use them. And for good reason. Masks, personas, alter-egos — they allow us to shapeshift. To survive. To stand a little taller when we feel small. To say the thing we might otherwise swallow. To be bold when boldness feels dangerous. In many ways, this is ancient magic. Ritualistic. Human.

The Stage Name is a Spell

There’s a reason musicians, writers, and drag performers carefully choose their names like weapons or talismans. A stage name doesn’t just hide the “real” person — it creates a new one. It allows distance. Freedom. Power. Drag queens know this better than anyone. A drag persona isn’t just a mask — it’s armor, it’s exaggeration, it’s truth wrapped in glitter and camp. Queens often say that their drag self allows them to express parts of themselves that feel dangerous or impossible to show in everyday life. It’s not about becoming someone else. It’s about becoming more yourself. Even musicians do this. Lady Gaga isn’t separate from Stefani Germanotta — she’s an expansion of her. Childish Gambino isn’t hiding Donald Glover — he’s illuminating him. Stage names become permission slips. Permission to be big. Loud. Weird. Honest. 

Online, The Mask Slips On Faster

Social media, for better or worse, has normalized the persona. A username, a profile pic, a carefully curated bio — these are all tiny masks. Sometimes empowering. Sometimes destructive. We see it in anonymous activism — voices speaking truth to power without fear of retaliation. We see it in creative freedom — artists experimenting without risking real-world judgment. And… we see it in cruelty. Anonymity can protect the vulnerable — but it can also embolden the cowardly. The faceless troll. The online bully. The comment-section assassin who would never dare say those words out loud. The mask frees them from consequence, and so their worst instincts spill out unchecked. That’s the double-edge of the persona: it reveals what’s already inside us — for better or worse.

The Persona Isn’t The Power — You Are

So what do we do with this knowledge? If we only feel powerful in the mask — only funny when tweeting anonymously, only sexy in drag, only confident under a stage name — what does that say about how we see ourselves unmasked? It says we’ve learned to compartmentalize our bravery. To ration out our worth. To believe that confidence is a costume, not a birthright. But here’s the secret: the mask was never magic. You were always the magic. The persona didn’t invent your boldness — it just gave you permission to access it. The stage name didn’t create talent — it let it shine without apology. The anonymous post didn’t invent your truth — it simply lowered your fear. Imagine if you didn’t need the mask to do that anymore. Imagine standing on your own two feet, without the glitter, the username, the alias — and still feeling whole. Still feeling worthy. Still feeling enough. Like RuPaul said best, “When you become the image of your own imagination, it’s the most powerful thing you could ever do.”

Wear the Mask — But Don’t Forget Who’s Underneath

This isn’t an argument against personas. Far from it. Wear them. Create them. Celebrate them. There is ancient, beautiful power in the names we choose, the faces we paint, the voices we adopt. But know this: The mask should be a tool, not a cage. It should set you free, not trap you. The goal isn’t to never wear a mask. The goal is to know — deeply, unshakably — that you were powerful before you ever put one on. And that you’ll be powerful still, long after you take it off.

Written by Jai LePrince

Photography by Mark Bluemle @barks.mindd

Production and Direction by Sophia Querrazzi @sophiamq_14

Talent: Jaden Rittweger @jjadeddjjadenn

Talent: Marc Semana @marcmiaou

Talent: Sophia Querrazzi