Our Identities Are Rarely Consistent
A paradox of maturity is that we’re pressured to discover ourselves while being presented with ready-made answers.
When I was growing up, other people assigned me categories. I was the yo-yo guy in middle school, then the parkour guy in junior high, then the gym show-off in senior high, and eventually settled into a nerd when I went to university.
The point was: I did a lot of stupid shit and people gave me corresponding labels. And if I liked the label, I would internalise it.
But there was a point in my life when I was trying out so many things that people struggled to pin me down. I worked as a grip on a friend’s film set over the weekend, ran a blog, and skipped school to listen to philosophy lectures. My friend once said to me in high school, “Oh, would you stop changing your hobbies every two weeks?”
What I didn’t know was that whenever someone is uncomfortable with your diverse experiences, it’s usually a reflection of their lack of courage to explore. The three seemingly unrelated hobbies: working as a grip, engaging with philosophy and blogging formed the three indispensable skill sets I now use in my career.
The interesting things usually happen in the intersections that cannot be categorised. We don’t owe other people the pleasure of easily categorising us, or as Emerson wrote in Self-Reliance:
“A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.”
However, with the rise of algorithm-driven content, I’m afraid there has been a shift in how we identify ourselves.
First, we no longer rely on people around us to identify us. Instead, “more of what you like” is the mantra that encourages us to self-identify. In this case, without the external opinions supplied by people we trust, self-identification throws us into a pit of confusion because we can be whatever want, whoever we want with no basis in reality.
Then, riding on the back of this confusion, we’re funnelled into hyper-specific subcultures. The Entrepreneur-Crypto Finance Bro with a puffer vest, the Chaotic Academia literature major who only drinks black coffee or the Cottage core at-home baker who is always looking for a country escape while listening to Hozier.
The problem, as I see it, is that the sub-branches (black coffee, puffer vest, etc) are still internally consistent. Playing into this self-identification is the tail wagging the dog and it fundamentally denies the fact that people are inconsistent, strange and can indulge in seemingly unrelated areas.
And here’s the second level of this paradox: in trying to self-identify, we turn into something we’re not because we’re precisely playing into this “foolishly consistency” Emerson wrote about. In reality, however, strict identities tend to melt away when we’re congruent with and secure in who we are, leaving us with the freedom to try out different flavours of life.
For example, when I started University, I stopped going to the gym because nerds supposedly don’t care about physical health (sounds stupid in retrospect, I know). But as my academic career progressed, the identity of being a nerd melted away and I realised working out and implementing proper nutrition are not incompatible with a life of the mind. In fact, optimal health compliments intense academic work.
The same goes for reading. When I intensely identified as someone who only reads highbrow shit, I would deny myself the pleasure of reading a magazine or a self-help book. But as my identity matures, my reading diet now consists of news, investigative journalism, and books about ecology alongside my bread and butter of literature and philosophy.
So, in sum, prize your contradictions because we don’t need to cherish a foolish consistency. The more we’re able to tolerate our conflicting tastes and traits, the more shades of life we’ll be able to enjoy and cherish.
Until next week
Robin
