Ana Olivia

For the month of July, Joe from Artlung.com selected the prompt on how the participants perceived masks, identities, and cosplay. I believe that the way we present ourselves visually says a lot about who we are. Whether it’s a school uniform, work attire, or a cosplay costume, what we wear can shape how others see us, and sometimes how we see ourselves too.

If you think about it, clothing is a type of cosplay. In school, uniforms identify us as students and come with unwritten expectations: the role of a learner, follow the rules, study hard and behave. I’ve worn school uniforms since I was five years old. From kindergarten through eighth grade, I wore a white collared shirt with a navy blue halter knee-high skirt per dress code for girls, while boys wore pants of the same color. I was excited to start high school since I knew I was able to leave the daily uniform days behind. I was proven otherwise.When I started high school, the dress code changed completely during my first year. Freshmen wore black bottoms with white tops, while upperclassmen wore khaki bottoms with either black or white shirts. No logos, no graphics,everything had to be a solid color.

Even though I followed the dress code, I still felt like I couldn’t fully express myself. I’ve always loved alternative fashion, and the uniform made me feel like that part of my identity was being restricted. During my second week of high school, I bleached the bottom half of my hair and dyed it hot pink. I also started wearing eyeliner and jewelry as a way to bring some personality back into my school-day appearance. Not long after, I was called into the principal’s office because my look was considered “distracting.” My a’ma pointed out that the dress code never said anything about hair color or accessories, so technically I wasn’t breaking any rules. I felt that my appearance did not define me as a neglectful student, as I always maintained a 4.0 GPA since I stepped foot in school. For my first three years there, I was the only student with brightly colored, “unnatural” hair, and I wore it proudly. My hair became my comfort blanket and everyone around school knew how to pull me out from the crowd.

Today, I wear scrubs and Hoka or Brooks shoes while working as a medical research photographer. Unlike my school uniform, these clothes represent something I’ve chosen. They reflect my professionalism, my role in healthcare, someone trustworthy, and credibility. My jewelry and fun badge holders separate me from others, but my appearance doesn’t portray my role in medical research and the betterment in patient care.

One experience at the beginning of my career was a reminder of the role someone else labeled me based on my appearance. I was documenting a facial reconstruction surgery that involved bioprinted and bioengineered tissue, making it one of the first procedures of its kind at the hospital I was under contract with. I was fully dressed in scrubs, a surgical gown, and personal protective equipment (PPE) while photographing the operation. After I finished and stepped out of the operating room, I removed most of my protective gear but still had my scrubs on. The surgical patient’s sister saw me and thanked me for performing the surgery. I had to explain, “Disculpe, no soy la cirujana. Soy la fotógrafa que documenta para el hospital. El cirujano vendrá a buscarle cuando termine.” (“I’m sorry, I’m not the surgeon. I’m the photographer documenting the procedure for the hospital. The surgeon will come speak with you when everything is finished.") That moment reminded me how much people associate certain clothing with certain identities.

Cosplay was another part of my life where clothing became a form of identity. I’ve always been selective about the characters I portrayed because I tend to connect with their personalities as much as their designs. Some of the characters I’ve cosplayed include Lorelei from Pokémon, Claire Redfield from Resident Evil, and Lulu from Final Fantasy X. Even though these characters come from completely different worlds, they all share qualities that resonate with me. They’re often calm, independent, and compassionate beneath a tough or intimidating exterior. They protect others, have a strong sense of justice, and stand against corruption, monsters, or overwhelming odds. Those are the kinds of traits I admire and feel that I have embodied in my early young adult life until today.

I’ve realized that all the different “masks” I have worn in the past to present day have never been disguises. They’re different ways of expressing parts of who I already am. Each one represents a different role, but none of them hides my identity entirely. Instead, they reveal it from a different perspective at the different chapters in my life.