In my recent viewing of Doctor Who story Deep Breath, the lack of being seen stands out to me. Oh sure, Clara doesn’t truly see the Doctor as the same person he was before, and that’s a longer story for another article. It’s Vastra’s comments we’re going to look at here.
“I wear a veil as he wore a face, for the same reason. The oldest reason there is for anything. To be accepted.” Okay sure, we all want to be accepted, right? But she goes on, “I wear a veil to keep from view what many are pleased to call my disfigurement. I do not wear it as a courtesy to such people, but as a judgment on the quality of their hearts.”
Though obviously trying to make a point about Clara’s reaction to the Doctor’s regeneration, Madame Vastra was openly talking about herself, when and how she chooses to hide her visible differences, her wife Jenny, etc. In truth, she was talking about every one of us that’s not seen for who we are, or feels we need to hide who we are.
Many people exist in the margins of society, scraping by in poverty-level jobs, invisibly disabled and constantly unsure how to answer the “what do you do/where do you work” questions, or living personal truths as part of the LGBTQ+ community despite the conflict and dangers it can bring, or autistic people who’ve learned to mask well and push past all their comfort zones to appear “normal” in public, just to give a few examples. And many of those people struggle with the conflicting desire to be truly seen, while also recognizing the negatives of removing that mask or veil.
Do you wear a veil?
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As a metaphorical veil, we often wear our own masks, our persona that we choose to share with the world, or with our co-workers, or with our relatives. In some cases, these veils come from us filtering ourselves to fit what we think is expected of us. In other cases, the veil is placed by others’ expectations or assumptions (such as assuming every white American you meet is CIS/het, Christian, middle-class, neurotypical, and married with kids—or at least wants to be).
In many of those cases, it’s hard work, and sometimes risky, to remove the veil others have given us. As Madame Vastra said, it’s not about being polite to those people. It’s judging whether they are both worthy enough and trustworthy enough to be allowed to see the reality. Whenever I find myself in situations where people have placed a veil over me with their assumptions, I have to ask myself if they deserve to know the real me.
So, who deserves to know the real you? Who do you wish could truly see you? Let us know your thoughts in the comments below.