Halloween: My Favorite Holiday and the Masks We Wear

October has always held a special place in my heart—Halloween is my favourite holiday, and it feels fitting that it’s also ADHD Awareness Month. The colour representing ADHD is orange, a vibrant hue that stands out, much like those of us in the neurodivergent community who find ourselves navigating a world built around different norms.

The Fascination with Human Behavior

From an early age, I was captivated by human behaviour. It became my “special interest,” even before I knew to call it that. What fascinates me most is how people wear masks daily, concealing or morphing parts of themselves to fit in, influence, or even manipulate. I don’t remember exactly when I started observing people on a deeper level, but I’ve always had an intuitive read on others—sensing the slightest shifts in the atmosphere and picking up on dangers hidden beneath the surface. Trevor Noah spoke about a similar sense in a recent podcast, describing how detecting change and danger feels almost second nature for some of us. The link is below:

Dairy of a CEO_Trevor Noah: My Depression Was Linked To ADHD! Why I Left The Daily Show! Being Hyper-Empathetic: https://youtu.be/FsztuzyXdhY?feature=shared&t=1595

This interest in human dynamics drew me to explore power and class structures, the intersection of education and opportunity, and how these forces shape behaviour —sometimes in shocking ways. I’ve spent years examining why some people become victims while others exploit, why groupthink can lead to cognitive dissonance, or how people justify harm or deception, often to themselves as much as to others.

What Halloween Reveals About Us

And here we are, in my favourite month, gearing up for Halloween—a holiday that holds more significance to me than any other. You may wonder, what does Halloween have to do with human behaviour, masks, and my obsession with understanding people? Let me explain.

To me, Halloween is a 24-hour glimpse into people's true selves. For one day, the “mask” we wear to navigate daily life is dropped, and another, often more honest, version of us steps forward. 

Missing the Memo: A Lesson in Authenticity

I remember a Halloween when my friend Amy and I went to a RobotHeart party in a warehouse deep in Brooklyn. We were dressed in our intricately planned Halloween costumes, complete with elaborate backstories for our characters. As we arrived, though, it became clear that we’d missed a memo: almost no one else was in Halloween attire. Instead, the other partygoers had come in their finest formal wear, giving us a mixture of strange looks and intrigued glances throughout the night. But a few people joined in the Halloween spirit, and despite feeling a very out of place, we found ourselves getting compliments for daring to be different. It wasn't intentional.

The experience taught me something about authenticity and assumption. Amy and I thought we knew the rules, only to find we’d landed somewhere that played by different ones. This is how it feels for ADHD and Autistic people every day—stepping into spaces where we don’t always get the hidden memos or social scripts but showing up as we are anyway. For us, each day can feel like a version of that party, navigating unspoken expectations and trying to find pride in just being ourselves, but not ourselves, because that person is a little different and out of place.

Some might dress as the glamorous version of themselves they rarely show, while others like me and my friends lean into horror, embracing the darker side of this macabre celebration. For one night, we embody whatever personas we choose without apology.

New York City's Transformation and the Power of Connection

Since moving to New York City in 2004, I’ve witnessed the city transform on Halloween in a mind-blowing way. It’s not a curated parade like Macy’s Thanksgiving Day spectacle but a raw, collective act of expression—a joint catharsis and “let-go” of the year. It’s a celebration of the angels and demons that have been our companions, the people we’ve been, and the parts we’re ready to shed.

Back when my friends and I could carve out time for it, Halloween was sacred. We chose a theme each year to embody how we felt about life, each of us turning up as our personal vision of the theme. We wore our creations proudly, embraced our personas, and left behind the negativity of the past year. This wasn’t about short skirts or revealing outfits; we connected to people on a deeper level—people saw our costumes as invitations to share their unfiltered selves. Halloween felt like an honest day, where everyone could drop the act.

The Exhaustion of Wearing Masks Every Day

The irony of sharing unfiltered thoughts behind a literal mask isn’t lost on me. But I’ve often thought that the masks we wear in daily life are more elaborate, intricate, and exhausting than anything we don for Halloween. Imagine for a moment that wearing a costume wasn’t a once-a-year event but a daily requirement, an expectation. Neurotypical people may talk about bringing their “authentic selves” to work, but there’s an unspoken rule to come as a slightly sanitized, diluted version. For neurodivergent people, though, this mask-wearing is constant.

Imagine getting up each morning, mentally slipping into a persona crafted for each space and expectation. It’s like living in a haunted house of mirror mazes, where you’re constantly aware of the reflections you show. The fear of letting the mask slip, of showing who you really are, is real and exhausting. Many neurodivergent people, myself included, feel like we’re “acting” most days, navigating a set of rules we don’t fully understand but that everyone else seems to know intuitively. As we do so our energy is sucked out of us like a quickly draining battery. It's exhausting.

But why do we feel this way? Why do we need to wear these masks, you ask? Because we’ve been told repeatedly that who we are is somehow wrong. Too weird, too different, too much, or not enough. We’re labelled as too distracted, unsocial, talkative, or quiet. We say odd things, do odd things, react differently, overreact, or don’t react enough. We’re constantly adjusting all day, every day, to fit into everyone else’s expectations. But on October 31st, we’re given a chance to represent who we are or what interests us in that moment.

Halloween: A Reminder of Hidden Sides and True Selves

Halloween, then, is a reminder that everyone has hidden sides. It’s a time when we’re all allowed to embrace whatever version of ourselves we want to be without judgment. For most, it’s a day of fantasy and fun, but for neurodivergent people, it’s also a day that mirrors our daily reality—showing different faces, only this time with permission to be exactly who we are, unapologetically. You can tell a lot about a person by the costume they decide to wear, and not just on Halloween.