On Fake Names, Patriarchy and Human Connection

1) Never trust a cop in a raincoat.
2) Beware of enthusiasm and of love, both are temporary and quick to sway.
3) If asked if you care about the world's problems, look deep into the eyes of he who asks, he will never ask you again.
4) Never give your real name.
5) If ever asked to look at yourself, don't look.
6) Never do anything the person standing in front of you can't understand.
7) Never create anything, it will be misinterpreted, it will chain you and follow you for the rest of your life.” - HST, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

A long time ago, I started giving male strangers I'll likely never see again a fake name. As a relatively small female adult, an extra layer of protection against a situation I can't entirely determine is safe or trustworthy seemed an OK justification to lie. Part of that urge is survival instinct, but another portion is sheer anxiety-produced paranoia. I know logically something is not bound to be a shitshow, but....what if it is? Studying history and interacting with people for 40 years, I'd venture to guess, the world does just be like that sometimes. Dinosaurs didn't think, "Hmm, this chomping and stomping is going to end in a sad, slow heat death sort of way," and look what happened to them. We can think like that, but collectively, seem to be having a difficult time with accepting that we're responsible for making the Earth into a basement metal show - hot, humid and highly volatile. 

So, partially out of paranoia, I lie to complete strangers about my name. My go-to name is fairly commonplace as a first name, nothing that raises an eyebrow as weird or overtly made up. My actual name however, does raise suspicion in people, which is why, especially when interacting with someone that may be intoxicated or a psychological unknown to me, the old standby is of use.

Most recently, I heard this name slip off my own tongue on a crowded train coming home from a concert. My male friend departed after the first stop and I was sitting alone surrounded by a group of mildly intoxicated dudes returning from the same event. I had no book, headphones or other barriers to ward off conversation, so I knew it was only a matter of time. My presence, sitting quietly, looking out a window, was too much for the man across the aisle to bear. As I was also masked, he had to know... why? My explanation of why I was in a mask of course opened the door to further conversation. Even though I did not use my real name, most everything I said in the conversation was largely true - I was married, had a daughter, taught high school history, was 40 years old, et al. My emotional responses remained real as well and perhaps were easier to call up since I was not "myself." Despite being a person who predicated the trust they set forth as acting "in good faith" in this conversation on a fake name, I was actually honest throughout. 

My takeaway from the event is threefold: first, it's not an exaggeration to say women face additional threats in this society by simply existing as woman. Living as a woman and female for a number of years, you're hit with the absurdity of the sexual dimorphism of our species - the cruel biological realities of being a female human make existence fraught with dangers that the roughly half of adults do not have to think about on a daily basis, or possibly ever. 

The second take-away is that a pseudonym provokes a degree of liberation. It's like wearing a Halloween costume, or more recent in everyone's mind, a mask over half your face. But, unlike pandemic masking, pseudonyms and Halloween costumes typically hinge on assuming a false identity as well. The playful aspect of willingly giving someone a name that you normally do not go by frees you from all of the responsibilities tied to your daily grind. 

Finally, despite the fact that the dude initiated a conversation with me on the grounds of mask-shaming, once I explained myself, his demeanor changed. His guardedness and need for vengeance, ready to be called a science-denier or anti-vaxxer, dropped as soon as there was no hostility in my voice. By responding to his query as though it were a question worthy of a response, made the situation bearable for the both of us. In the past, I have written quite a bit about the breakdown of communication due to the advent of social media and the anonymity associated with it. Face-to-face interactions are essential to the survival of our species. We are a social species who cannot bear the weight of constantly having to interpret the tone of someone's response from 140 characters before we formulate our reactions. So please, get out there, give someone a made up name and live. 

Musical Epilogue:

“Every New Discovery Is Just A Reminder…” “We're All Small And Stupid.”

 “If nothing matters, then all the pain and guilt you feel for making nothing of your life goes away – sucked into a bagel.” - Jobu Tupaki

*spoilers? maybe? not really...more thoughts generated by the movie*

Last night I saw Everything Everywhere All At Once, a movie that, on its surface, can be laughed through for the absurdity of the plot and cast of wacky characters in all of their multitudinous iterations. Yet, within the comedy, there's a poignant message about the lives we lead. Not only do we see through the eyes of the characters all the different possibilities for their being, strewn across the multiverse, but how their choices affect the lives of others as well.

Philosophically, the movie dealt with the tensions inherent in existentialism, a broad philosophical school, that can vacillate from the religiously-infused Kierkegaard to the absurdism of Camus to the positive nihilism of Nietzsche. All of the branches of existentialism share a core value of existence preceding essence. All existentialism without perspective veers dangerously into nihilism. 

What does that mean? In short, existentialist beliefs are borne out of the same desolate thought that there's no rational explanation for our existence. Our existence just is. Nothing truly matters because there is no higher power and we will all be dead one day. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, full stop. When we do not couple that belief system with a consistent perspective that we're doing all this living for something beyond just existing, then all that we can be is a temporary, swirling mass of atoms in a sea of interminable emptiness.

In the movie, Evelyn in our world lived to please her father - succumbing to the belief that his approval was all she needed to unlock her potential at a fulfilling life. When she explored other universes, she was able to see all of the different ways in which she could have achieved his approval besides running a successful coin laundromat. Interestingly, we never did see her in a scenario where she totally rejected her desire for his approval, because even in her current state, despite having disobeyed him, she was still seeking it after disobeying him earlier in life. The perspective she gained by the end of the film helped her to actualize her own desires for the life she was leading. She could move forward and actually allow herself to feel something. 

Her husband Waymond, throughout all the multiverses we saw, maintained his love for her and people in general, choosing to see the good. Despite the absurdity of life, divergent paths and unexpected occurrences, he was the one who was able to continue to see the good in Evelyn, to give her the benefit of the doubt. 

Finally, her daughter, Joy, represented someone who lacked the essence of her name. In one of the multiverses, Evelyn had pushed her too far and she was "broken" mentally. Yet her break provided clarity and insight into every iteration of her being(s). To avoid being confronted with all she could be but could not simultaneously achieve in one lifetime, she decided to create a void in which to escape. The void would give her peace of mind and eternal rest from the drama of reflective awareness, ending her existential crisis.

Ultimately, it is Evelyn who is able to reach out to Joy, but only after accepting her own faults as well as the unconditional love of her husband, as well as experiencing very real interactions through her other selves, selves that had completely different trajectories and outcomes far different from her own. 

The full weight of the philosophical implications of this film take time to sink in. I most definitely empathize with Joy's character in the ease of ending it all for the great quiet of nonexistence. But Camus already expounded that suicide or retreat doesn't eliminate the existential dilemma of life, it just sidesteps it. The only way through the pain of existence is to experience it, for within the slog of life, there are moments of joy, beauty and wonder; sometimes they come in the form of people, other times in artistic expressions, or even more simply reflected in nature or the stillness of a peaceful moment. 

Musical Epilogue from the absurdist masters, Faith No More: