Who Are You, Really?

Three writers on identity and the challenges of being yourself

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay

“In the social jungle of human existence, there is no feeling of being alive without a sense of identity.” — Erik Erikson

Have you ever looked in the mirror and wondered who that person was staring back at you? If so, you’re not alone. As three writers on Medium discuss, discovering who we are is more complex than looking in the mirror.

It’s Okay to Have Multiple Identities

I am a wife, sister, aunt, daughter, niece, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law, friend, dog-and-cat mom, therapy dog handler, employee, consultant, instructor, and possibly a few others I’m forgetting. In each of these roles, I am a slightly different person. In essence, these roles are constructed through an implicit agreement with the people on the other side, whether they be parents, siblings, spouses, friends, bosses or any number of other people with whom we share some type of relationship.

As Niklas Göke explains, this construction is known as “identity negotiation,” a theory developed by sociologist Erving Goffman. Goffman proposed that we adopt particular identities in response to our various relationships, as each comes with its own “mutually agreed-upon, identity-based code of conduct.”

Through this process of identity negotiation, we can feel like different people in different situations. This is natural given that it’s impossible to be all things to all people. Göke shares research pointing to the protective factor of identity negotiation. By fulfilling certain roles in certain situations, we may feel more connected to others and experience a greater sense of meaning in our lives. But first, we must be comfortable in our roles.

When we try to change who we are to please other people, to take on the identity they’d prefer we have, the protective factor gives way to potential conflict, namely within ourselves. Identity negotiation doesn’t imply willing participation in a role that violates who we perceive ourselves to be at our core.

The Lifelong Struggle To Be Yourself

Who we are beneath all the roles we play can be difficult to discern. As Larry G. Maguire explains, the question of what it means to be ourselves can be difficult to answer given the familial and social pressures to be a certain way. For example, Maguire asks us to consider the clothes and toys parents buy for their children or the TV shows they allow them to watch. Those small choices can influence how individual identities form.

The effect spills over into school and society at large. Think about school kids and the pressure to “fit in,” which doesn’t end with high school. We’re barraged with advertisements selling products designed to make us somehow better than we are now. Whether it’s a luxury car or shampoo that removes the gray, we are led to believe that using these products will change us and how others see us.

We are shaped by forces external to us, but as Maguire writes —

“…beneath these outer layers of personal identity, there is something subtle, quiet, and unidentifiable.”

What he calls the “creative self” is juxtaposed against the “ideological self,” the person we try to be to please others. Quoting George Bernard Shaw, Maguire encourages us to focus less on the search to find ourselves and more on the opportunity to create ourselves.

The Masks We Wear (Or Should)

How do we go about creating ourselves when we’re not sure who we really are? Alecia Kennedy asks us to consider how masks can help us both find and express who we are at our core.

While the idea of wearing a mask is often associated with trying to be someone we’re not, Kennedy presents a different way of looking at masks, ala the TV show, “The Masked Singer.” Contestants are celebrities dressed in outrageous costumes that cover them completely. The judges must guess the identity of these cloaked celebrities based on nothing more than what they choose to say or sing.

Since not all contestants are expert singers, the show is less about the best singer and more about the fun of figuring out who is behind the mask. As Kennedy writes, the mask eliminates presumptions that may have arisen had we known who was behind the mask. She notes the irony of being able to “…see the singers more clearly by not seeing them.”

Without the benefit of knowing who’s in front of us, all expectations fall away. This works in our favor by allowing us to be freer in our interactions with others. The fears we may have about being judged by others for what we say or what we wear, for example, disappear behind a mask.

As Kennedy notes, it’s unlikely we’re all going to don giant goofy masks to remake ourselves or feel comfortable with who we are, but we can adopt our own costume that’s invisible to others — the costume of ourselves, whoever that might be.

We might even create different costumes for the different roles we play. Or a costume that deflects the pressures of society to be a certain way.

Somewhere beneath the roles and the pressures and the ill-fitting masks we may force ourselves to wear, there is an essence that belongs to only us. But don’t kill yourself trying to figure out exactly who and what that essence is. Instead, try on a new mask and see how it feels.

Only you can create you. But the more you force an “authentic” version of yourself, the further from yourself you may become.

Originally published in Top 3 on Medium on November 4, 2019.

Rewriting the Narrative of My Writing Self

Harnessing the wisdom of other writers

Photo by Fausto García on Unsplash

One of my favorite things about Medium is the inspiration I find to keep writing no matter how stuck I feel. These three articles prompted me to consider what my writing self looks like and whether I’m on track to get there.

Moving Beyond Inferiority

Why You’re Attached to Being an Inferior Version of Yourself

Brianna Wiest maintains most of us are short-changing ourselves by placing our validation in the hands of others. So what’s to be done? If we’re to push ourselves beyond the self we’ve settled for, we have to rewrite our story.

“Every day of your life, you must wake up and completely embody the person you want to be. That is the only way you will become them.”

It is a “process of self-validation,” Wiest writes, that helps us break down “the tension, the resistance, the unhappiness.” Like the resistance I feel with finishing my memoir, the tension of reliving painful times until it’s finished.

Who is the person I want to be? Since being a writer is part of my identity, then being the kind of person I want to be means being the kind of writer I want to be, which is one who puts herself out there and isn’t afraid of what people might think, who doesn’t run from the possibility of criticism and rejection.

I want to be the kind of writer who doesn’t doubt every word, who doesn’t succumb to her inner critic, to its incessant question of what I could possibly have to offer. This is the kind of person who’s confident in her thoughts and opinions, who believes she’s worthy of contributing to the larger story of humanity.

Finishing What I Start

How to Become a Person Who Finishes What You Start

It’s a miracle I ever finished a dissertation. I wouldn’t have without my advisor urging me along but not without pointing out my biggest challenge: “You have a lot of good ideas, just no follow-through.”

In her piece on the importance of finishing what we start, Shaunta Grimes reminds us that successful people are finishers. Among the tips she shares for becoming a finisher —

“Muzzle your inner editor.”

Grimes has named her inner editor, which I imagine gives her some control over it. Mine has no name but takes the form of a monster lurking over my bed. No physical appearance beyond a shadow on the walls, on the ceiling, hovering over my face. Something out of the movie The Babadook. Perhaps I need to name it.

Killing My Perfectionism

Finishing what I start means returning to my memoir, which means doing the work required to see it through to the end. Joe Pregadio reminds us how the quest for perfection can lead to paralysis, to doing nothing. My inner critic, my Babadook, is mired in perfection. It’s drilled into my brain, growing up with a mother who cleaned obsessively, running the vacuum at midnight because we’d left footprints on the carpet.

My quest for perfection is an excuse like the false narrative of myself I’ve created. In that story, I’m not good enough to “make it” as a writer, although I haven’t considered what making it as a writer means to me.

Shaping My Course

In response to my piece about struggling with “writer’s block,” Christina Ward 🍁🌲 encouraged me to submit to the process of writing. Not writing isn’t an option for me, but to fully release the tension and submit to the process, I have to rewrite my narrative.

It’s time to be a higher version of my writing self, one strong enough to defeat my Babadook — the Boogie Man standing over me — and his sidekick, Perfection. It’s time to be the version brave enough to finish what I start no matter how painful. And bold enough to share it with the world.

Originally published in Indelible Ink on Medium on October 23, 2019.