My dad tells me I smile to keep from crying. I don't know about

Hear the words of Nick Young, who spoke not only as an athlete of the court, but as a man of the human condition: “My dad tells me I smile to keep from crying. I don’t know about that. But I do think you sometimes smile to hide.” At first glance, these words seem simple, the musings of a son upon his father’s wisdom. Yet within them lies the eternal tension between what is seen and what is hidden, between the mask we show the world and the sorrow we carry beneath.

The meaning is profound. A smile is often thought to be the emblem of joy, the outward sign of inner light. Yet, as Young admits, it can also be a cloak—a shield to cover pain, disappointment, or fear. Many warriors, kings, and poets have known this truth: the strongest faces often wear the brightest smiles, even when their hearts are weighed down by tears unshed. In this way, the smile becomes both comfort and concealment, a way to stand tall when the soul longs to bend.

The ancients spoke of masks, those visages worn in the theaters of Greece and Rome. The mask of comedy bore a wide grin, though the actor beneath might be weary; the mask of tragedy carried sorrow, though the man beneath could be calm. Life itself mirrors that stage. We wear our own masks, smiling so that others are not burdened by our troubles, hiding so that our wounds remain unseen. Young’s words capture this ancient truth in modern form: not every smile reveals joy—sometimes it guards pain.

History provides a mirror in the figure of Abraham Lincoln. Known for his wit and humor, he often smiled in public, told jokes to his cabinet, and lightened the heavy air of war. Yet privately, he was burdened with grief, weighed down by personal loss and the horrors of a nation divided. His smile did not erase his sorrow, but it shielded him, gave courage to others, and allowed him to endure. Like Young’s reflection, it shows that sometimes the smile is not for oneself, but for those who look to you.

Yet there is also a warning here. To smile always, to hide endlessly, is to risk becoming a stranger to oneself. For the soul longs to be seen, the heart longs to be known. If one wears the mask too long, it may harden, and the world may never glimpse the truth beneath. Thus, while the smile can be a noble shield, it must sometimes be set aside, so that healing may begin.

The lesson, then, is balance. There is wisdom in knowing when to wear the smile—to bring light in dark rooms, to protect the spirit in harsh times, to keep from crying when tears would weaken resolve. But there is equal wisdom in knowing when to remove it—in the presence of trusted friends, family, or in moments of prayer—so that the hidden pain may be released. Both strength and vulnerability are needed, and the wise soul learns to walk between them.

Therefore, my children, practice this in your days: when life burdens you, do not be ashamed if you smile to hide, for even that is a form of courage. But also seek places where you can lay down the mask and be true. Share your struggles with those you trust, speak your sorrow as well as your joy, and let yourself be comforted. For the smile that hides is powerful, but the smile that comes after healing—that is eternal.