"We think we know someone, but the truth is that we only know the version of them they have chosen to show us." - Taylor Swift (Shout out to my friend Amanda for sharing this quote with me.)
Working to control others' perceptions of us is not a new phenomenon. It probably traces back to the beginning of human existence. But as media has expanded, the ability and perceived need to do so has certainly grown as well. Most of us probably remember from history class that FDR and his associates worked hard to keep the visibility of his polio-induced paralysis to a minimum (although some of what we learned was exaggerated according to this Time article), and who doesn't love a good slide show of celebrities without makeup.
But today each of us, not just celebrities, can broadcast a carefully curated version of ourselves and our lives--not just to our family and friends--but literally to the entire world. And we recognize the often contrived nature of what we share through social media. We know none of you "woke up like this," we know you deleted 15 versions of that selfie before you posted it, and we know your house/apartment/dorm room doesn't always look like that. Because we're over here doing the exact same things. Except somehow, we've fallen into a mindset that what we see on others' timelines is real, while we know ours is incredibly filtered. So why is that important?
Here's one reason: because when we start to believe that people are without flaws, we run the very dangerous risk of not seeing them for who they really are.
With the emergence of the Silence Breakers over the past few months, the most shocking revelations, at least among many people I've talked to, were those against Matt Lauer. Why were people so much more surprised at the thought he had harassed and assaulted women than others accused? My theory is that it's because of the image so many had of him. Millions of people trusted him to deliver their news every morning, he was an integral part of the annual Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade broadcast, and was the face of the cultural touchstone that is the Olympic Games. The wide-spread respect and trust people placed in him stand in stark contract to the image of a man who wielded his status and power to intimidate and abuse women. And if my theory that people's "persona blindness" leads to insurmountable cognitive dissonance if that person is called out for bad behavior is true, well, perhaps we have somewhat of an explanation for why allegations can be so widely known without anyone speaking out.
"I just can't believe it!" Ever heard/felt/said that? If so, consider why. Is it because you have had a long-term, personal relationship with the person and the accusation is incongruent with all of your interactions with him/her? Or is it because you think you know the person. (Remember, you know who they want you to think they are.) And even if the answer is the former, don't we owe it to each other to look beyond the curated "reality" we've been shown and look deeper?
Yes, people deserve due process and a presumption of innocence, especially in our legal system. But people also deserve for others to listen when they dare to expose what lies behind the filter.