My fear of others’ reactions
I’m getting dressed in the morning, knowing I’ll be going in for my allergy shot this afternoon. It’s late winter/early spring. Still too cool for short sleeves. I’ve got exactly two tops with long sleeves that can be rolled up high enough to expose my shoulder for the shot. I pull one off its hanger, but I know it won’t keep me warm enough by itself.
A few years ago, I bought some cheap undershirts to use in this kind of situation. They do the trick, but I’d be embarrassed if anyone knew I was wearing one of them. I don’t think it’s an acceptable fashion nowadays.
As a nerd, I’ve never been comfortable with this whole idea of style. I’d been ridiculed and deeply shamed a few times in high school when I’d stepped over some invisible line that I didn't even know existed. So I hesitate before putting on an undershirt beneath my long-sleeved top. It might show when the nurse exposes my shoulder to poke me with the needle. Will she laugh at me?
Why would I care if she does?
I don’t want to care. I don’t want someone else’s opinion about something as trivial as the clothes I wear to have any impact on me at all.
The shame of nakedness
And yet we can’t get away from this type of thinking. It started with the Fall and it’s been with us ever since.
When Adam and Eve sinned, one of the first consequences that they experienced was knowing that they were naked, and feeling ashamed. They began to fear that they couldn’t measure up to each others’ expectations. What if the one they loved so dearly saw their flaws and imperfections (or even just their differences) and laughed? Or looked down on them. Or rejected them. That would hurt too much. So they covered themselves.*
The Bible doesn’t say they should have been ashamed, as if their bodies were somehow impure in and of themselves. God created those bodies and pronounced them very good. The author simply states the truth of their brokenness—they were ashamed because they were naked.
And what was God’s response? He rebuked them for disobeying Him, but not for covering themselves. He didn’t try to convince them that their bodies were beautiful and nothing to be ashamed of. He knew that in their fragile fallenness they were incapable of tolerating being naked in front of each other as they went about their everyday tasks. They didn’t have that kind of emotional strength.
They must cover themselves in order to cope with their new reality. God even provided better coverings for them—animal skins instead of fig leaves. (These last three paragraphs refer to Genesis 1 through 3).
My need for a pseudonym
In describing my writing, three words come to mind: Authentic, transparent, and vulnerable. And yet I’m using a pseudonym. Doesn’t that sound sort of self-contradictory?
Maybe. But it’s based on a simple fact of life. Like Adam and Eve, we all need some type of covering. I knew from the start that I could not write the way I do if I attached my real name to my book and blog. No matter how hard I might try to be truly authentic, no matter how much I might bravely attempt to accept being naked, I would subconsciously and unintentionally recoil from completely baring myself for total strangers to see. I would be incapable of sharing freely. I had to use a pen name.
I need that kind of covering in order to survive emotionally and psychologically. We cannot be totally, one hundred percent, nakedly honest with each other without facing serious consequences.
Our inner censor
I read several years ago about a study that identified certain regions of the brain that act as mirrors when we’re talking to someone else face-to-face. We were created to automatically, subconsciously reflect the other person’s facial expression, body language, and use of words. In a way, it sounds like we’re being manipulated by our own brains into being inauthentic. Tricked into acting like the other person instead of being ourselves.
But what would happen if we didn’t have this basic mechanism? Would we still have the capacity (or desire) to understand and relate to another human being if we weren’t constantly, irresistibly putting ourselves in their shoes? Could we do anything other than selfishly cling to our own feelings and ideas? Would every attempt to communicate end in anger and frustration? Could we carry on any kind of meaningful conversation at all? Could civilization exist?
What happens when people are able to voice their thoughts openly and “authentically” without activating this inner censor by actually seeing or hearing the other person? We get millions (or is it billions?) of vicious, uncensored online screeds. If we didn’t have this natural bent to mirror each other, to feel in our own bodies what the other person feels, we couldn’t speak the truth with love (Ephesians 4:15).
And how authentic is it really, when I pour out my anger and scorn without concern about how it might hurt someone else? The part of me that cares about others is also an authentic facet of my personality. That’s why I used quotation marks in the paragraph above. There’s something darker behind those screeds than a genuine desire to be real.
The challenge of being honest
At the same time, God calls me to be truthful. How do I obey Him in this area while also protecting myself and others from the damage done by exposing my nakedness?
Maybe it starts with deliberately being honest with God. Confessing my sins. Sharing my doubts and frustrations. Even admitting my anger with Him instead of trying to hide it inside.
Not because He couldn’t see the truth if I didn’t reveal it to Him. But because I need to face that truth myself. And I need to experience the wonder that He knows that truth and still loves me dearly. Once I have this foundation of unconditional love from the One who sees all and knows all, an unconditional love even for ugly naked me, I can start to expose my more difficult truths to those around me.
But I have to be careful. I have to set wise boundaries.
I need to discern who among my friends can bear my nakedness without scorn or disdain or repulsion. (That terrible pain that my fig leaves are designed to protect me from.) Not that they won’t ever rebuke me or question my thinking. But it will be done with gentleness and concern for my spiritual health.
They’ll have to remove their own coverings of pride and judgment in order to minister to my needs. Our relationship will grow deeper as we each peel back some of our layers of clothing. Which means that I’ll have to become someone who can lovingly bear another person’s nakedness, too.
I’ll also have to be discerning about what I share. I’ll need to resist the selfish impulse to pour out my soul without discretion simply for the relief it brings me. One friend might be able to bear a particular truth better than another. Some truths might be best left with God alone.
That doesn’t give me a license to intentionally deceive, though. I’m very upfront with letting my readers know that I’m using a pseudonym. I’m also very careful to be completely, totally, nakedly honest about the thoughts and emotions that I choose to reveal. To protect my identity, I put on certain additional coverings—using fake names for any people that I refer to in my writing and modifying the circumstances that I describe. But the message remains real and true.
Just as we need our clothing to protect us from the shame we feel when others see our imperfect bodies, we also need coverings to protect us from the psychological damage we would sustain if others saw every facet of our personal imperfections or if they exposed all their ugly nakedness to us. We cannot live any other way in this fallen world. But we can be totally nakedly authentic with God. And we can, and should, be taking wise steps toward being more open and authentic with each other.
*My thanks to Jordan Peterson for describing this aspect of Adam and Eve’s reaction in his book, Twelve Rules for Life.
