Baldwin identifies something we usually miss: the mask becomes a prison precisely *because* we've convinced ourselves we need it. We don't shed our disguises when we suddenly feel brave—we shed them only when someone loves us enough to make the risk of authenticity seem less terrifying than the exhaustion of performance. A woman might finally confess to her partner that she doesn't want children, not because she's suddenly found courage, but because being known and loved despite that admission feels less dangerous than the quiet resentment of pretending. The paradox is that we cling to masks thinking they protect us, when really they're just elaborate locks we're terrified to open.