I’ve had some ideas kicking around my head. I don’t think they’re fully refined, but sometimes writing and/or discussing them is helpful in clarifying them. So here goes.

What is “identity”?

In recent years it’s become vogue to “identify as” things. I’m supposed to identify as a woman, or a girl, or queer, or kinky, or whatnot.

The thing is, I’m not really sure I identify as any of those things. I identify as me. Those are terms I may use to describe myself when I need to convey an approximation of myself and my interests, but… I find myself questioning what it means to identify as any of them, or anything else.

Partly, what’s the difference between identifying as something and being that thing? Does identifying mean you imagine yourself as that thing, but may not be asserting your actual existence as that thing? If not that, then what’s the difference? If they’re the same, then why not just be something, why this extra step as identifying as it?

Secondly, the language can be confining or problematic. If I say I’m a woman, that gives one sense of what I am. If I clarify that as a tomboy, that gives another. The problem is, if I say I’m a tomboy, that definition excludes skirts and dresses from my wardrobe. I feel like these are other people’s definitions, so even though they’re helpful for describing myself and communicating, they’re also clumsy and contradictory, and don’t fit me right. I don’t want to choose between strong gal that likes bikepacking and backpacking, and being the gal that likes putting on a nice sundress and going dancing—I am both. But the language isn’t conducive to concisely expressing being both. I’m certain I’m not alone in this, and that this sort of duality is not limited to the overlap of {woman, tomboy}.

Controlling “identities”

There’s also the arbiters of identity. I can be a woman, and a tomboy—except to Christofascist extremists who demand that women are the homemakers, caretakers. Who are they to think they can tell me who I am? And a wider swath of society, although accepting of tomboys, is resistant to the existence of men who like feminine things.

It really gets my goat the way these fuckers work:

“Men are X, and do Y and Z things.”

“Well, no, I’m a man and I don’t do X or like Y things.”

“Well, you have to do X and like Y and Z because you’re a man.”

“Okay, then I guess I’m not a man.”

“Well… you have man attributes, therefore you’re a man, therefore you are X and do Y and Z things.”

“But I’m not. What are the other choices?”

“Uh… The choices are man and woman… ummmm…”

“Then I guess I’m a woman. I am A, and do B, C and Z things.”

“No! No, you can’t do Z thing. That’s a man thing.”

“But I like that, it feels right to me.”

“Nnn…nnn… No, you can’t do that if you’re a woman.”

“Then I guess I must be something else entirely. I’ll make up a new category.”

“What!?!? No, that’s not possible, there are only men and women! You have to be one or the other, and only men can do men things Y and Z, and only women can do women things B and C.”

They set up these definitions that don’t accommodate everyone. They demand there’s only two ways of being, and expect everyone else to comply with their model and mold themselves to fit. They are like HOA (home owner’s association) cronies, imposing their policies on everybody else: single men, you get the ranch; women, you get the 1½ story cape; married folks, you get the 2½ story colonial. You like Victorians? Too bad, not allowed. Here’s an allowable list of colors for your paint. The home furnishing store will know which furniture you need when you tell them which model house you’ve bought.

Identity as Forms vs. Templates

Perhaps identities are the chunks from which the soul is assembled? I don’t mean this in a mystical sense; by soul I mean “the essence of self.” Running with the definition of identity as the aggregate from which the soul is made, then what would that say about what identity is?

The philosopher Plato had the idea of “forms”: the idealized version of something. For example, in my back yard I have a fence. Plato says the “form” is the ideal of a fence, that perfect, straight, unblemished essence of fence that exists in our mind. My fence may tilt, rot, and eventually fall over; but the form of the fence is perfect and stays that way indefinitely. The arbiters of identity treat identity this way: ideals, goals, perfection to be aspired to.

This is wrong. If identities are subcomponents of the soul, that being the essence of self, they are not Plato’s forms, but instead templates. They are not ideals to grow into, but starting points to be shaped, trimmed, refined and reconfigured as we see fit. A blank sheet of paper may be perfectly flat and perfectly empty—close to the Platonic form of paper—but the pinnacle of any sheet’s existence comes only when it has been covered with a drawing, shaped into a piece of origami, or covered with writings or mathematics that express ideas. Identities, like a sheet of paper, are best when they are customized.

Returning to the house metaphor, what is the perfect form of my house? When was it/will it be at its pinnacle? When the house was just built and closest to its blueprints? It’s been repainted, remodelled, reconditioned, rewired, improved—all the owners over the years adapting it to suit their personal preferences and needs. A prior owner painted it white and orange, I painted it a pinkish-purple. It will continue to be adapted and repaired in the decades to come. Should these not happen, the building will enter stagnation and decline. My house achieves its best not by sitting statically and rotting, but by adapting, changing, and serving the needs of its occupants. I say this is what identity is, and should be.

We humans seem to struggle with this form vs. template problem, forgetting that perfection is not necessarily a static state. While figuring myself out, I copied identities from the cultural definition, or from others I knew and/or respected, and “tried them on.” It seems odd that I needed a template to figure out something that is innate, and yet I’m certainly not the only one who has done it. At their best, these provided a basis for understanding or developing new parts of myself, and I shaped them to match my needs as my understanding grew—or, in a few cases, I cast them off when I found they fit too awkwardly, or came with too many restrictions. But the catch is that sometimes, I embraced a new identity only to later find it confining me—I let the idea harden, then define and limit me. I forgot that the thing I embraced was a template to customize to my needs, but instead treated it as a form that defined me.

It was difficult and painful the first several times I had to break out of a mold I had gotten stuck in. With practice, though, I find myself getting stuck less often, and better at escaping a trap I fall into.

Growing In and Out of Identity

Transformations

Returning to the sheet of paper: in its near-Platonic form, an empty, flat sheet, it is clearly a sheet of paper. But when it gets used, there’s an interesting transformation. If it’s folded up in the right way, we say it’s a swan. With the right squiggles on it, we say it’s a drawing. With different squiggles, it can be an erotic story, or a mathematical proof.

“What is that?” someone asks of the notes I’m making.

“It is some code I’m writing out for a new game I’m thinking of.”

When did the paper become code? It is still paper—and yet, being paper can be superceded by what’s done to it. And what is written is code, even before it’s completed, or typed into a computer and the errors fixed. What makes it code before it is complete or finalized?

“What is that?” someone asks a child cutting and taping together paper.

“It is a house,” the child says of the 3D representation they have made.

Arguably, it is not a house but a facsimile of a house—although this is a distinction we don’t always make when speaking. The real question, though, is when did sheets of paper become a house made of paper?

“What is that?” someone asks of the brushwork in progress on a sheet of paper.

“They are flowers”, the artist says. Alternately, he may have said, “It is a painting.” Whatever the case, it is no longer a sheet of paper, but is at best a painting on a sheet of paper. The paperness of the paper takes back stage to the artistic endeavor upon its surface; the paper is simply a carrier for that other thing.

What Makes Identity?

Like these physical things, there are transformations we make upon ourselves and our identities that effect the language that describes us. They take different forms in language. When I took a job as a school bus driver, I became a school bus driver. I am no longer doing that job, so I am no longer a school bus driver. Contrast that to developing software, which I’ve done through much of my life: even when I haven’t developed code in a while, I remain a developer. Why are these not the same?

It seems for people, intent is part of the equation. I can and probably will develop more software in the future, so I retain the title, which represents that part of my identity. A school bus driver who takes a year off to travel the world might still describe themselves as a school bus driver, if they intend to return to that work. Or, if they are done, they might describe themselves as a retired school bus driver, retaining the description but qualifying it as part of their past, not their present or future.

It also seems depth of involvement is part of the equation. I’ve watched a lot of Star Trek, but doing so doesn’t immediately impart trekkie identity on me. There is a woman I’ve met at Zumba, however, who has seen all the Star Trek series, is involved in several Star Trek websites, regularly attends Star Trek conferences, and keeps up with all the lore and behind-the-scenes news of Trek-related productions and people. To not describe her as a trekkie would be to deny, or at least ignore, this important portion of her time, interest, and I believe how she thinks about herself.

Casually doing something a few times is not enough to embrace it as identity. You can play a game, but not all people playing a game are gamers. You can go shopping, but not all shoppers are shop-a-holics. Many of us drive, but only some of us are petrol-heads.

But considering the gamers who always make game night, the shoppers who exchange news about deals on Facebook, the gear-heads who doll up their car and take it to the drive-in night to show it off—at some level of involvement, their interest becomes a part of their identity. They think it, they talk it, they study it, they practice it.

As humans, we customize our identity with our interests—like an addition to a bungalo—maybe out of interest, maybe because of need (job/family), maybe due to peer pressure, maybe at a whim.

Losing Identity

Just as we can add or transform pieces of identity, we can lose them. A gamer couple who has kids, may find themselves without time to game. Parenthood comes to the forefront, and their gaming interest either becomes shut away—like a room with a locked door, to be reopened when there is time—or just drifts away, an interest superceded by new interests and priorities.

I used to be a Doctor Who fan. I watched Doctor Who, read Doctor Who books, attended Doctor Who-related events, talked Doctor Who with other Doctor Who fans. After college, my interests moved onto new areas. That’s okay; evolution is normal, healthy.

Jobs, too, are often a source of identity. We relate to our work, our co-workers, and the shared challenges we face, and this congeals into an identity: “I don’t work as a firefighter, I am a firefighter.” (Example; I am not.) The cameraderie, the solidarity, the battles won together create a sense of team, and with that an identity as part of the team. It can be a source of strength, knowing we’re not alone. But when we move on to a new job, that sense of team usually dissipates—and with it, the sense of identity of being a group member.

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What am I driving at here?

Identities change. It’s normal; we evolve and grow. If you’re not doing that, it’s kind of sad.

It’s normal to have multiple interests, and should a few of those grow deep enough to form a piece of your identity, that’s okay, it’s normal. We aren’t 1-dimensional characters, and we shouldn’t try to be.

But also don’t feel bad to let go of pieces you’ve outgrown; when it’s time to move on, holding on to them only holds you back.

There are patterns: Wicca provides “Child, maiden, mother, crone”—the stages of womanhood. For me, they’ve turned out to be useful ways of seeing and understanding myself and my progression through life. They are not exact—I never had children so I have never a mother, but I have been in a role where I can watch over and offer guidance—and the sequence is a little off. Even being an athiest, Wicca’s stages have been helpful to me. I’ll take wisdom where ever I can get it.

But beware the Christofascists and others who will demand you embrace the identity they specify for you. Beware also those who restrict the identities you are allowed to explore or embrace, and/or the sequence you explore them in, if they allow any exploration at all. They will call you names and insist you are evil when you do not comply with their model. But it is they that are evil, restricting the life and personal growth of others to fit their small-minded scope of what life is, what life can be, and what you can be.

Wrap-up

We all know what identity is, and yet pinning down a definition feels elusive.

Whatever it is, there are those who have their idealized models of what identity should be (or, at Plato would call them, “forms”), and they expect the rest of us to conform. But the problem is not that we don’t fit their models, nor is the solution to mold us to fit it.

Your life, like mine, is too short and too valuable to be wasted conforming simply for the sake of easing others' inhibitions.

The problem is that their models/forms are insufficient and limited; and the solution is to recognize that our souls—the essence of who we are, our identity—is authoritative. A model can be expanded, made more flexible, but like any simulation or approximation it is not and never will be as expansive or as detailed as the thing it represents. We must remember this, and stop allowing models and approximations—whether our own or somebody else’s—to become authoritative, because they aren’t, and never were.

I identify as Perette. When I’m filling out a form and it asks me what I identify as, I’ll provide some words approximating an answer to the question—but they will not, and can not, provide a fully detailed, perfectly accurate description. Those words are an echo, a grainy 2D snapshot of a detailed 3D identity—and are not the origin or a comprehensive definition of that identity.