The Identity Raft

“It’s lovely to live on a raft. We had the sky up there, all specked with stars, and we used to lay on our backs and look up at them…”

--The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Mark Twain

Identity is the story we tell ourselves about who we are. The construct of identity is so innate that it is almost invisible to us. At the same time, we tell ourselves a story about us, we impose a story on others, our assumptions about what their identities are or should be. 

This is what is behind most prejudice (literally pre-judging), racism, and oppression of every kind. It’s the idea that I already know who you are. That I can tell just by looking at you. Not just whether I like you or not or whether I agree with you or not. There is nothing oppressive about that. The problem comes when I think that I get to decide what you are or who you should be or that your morality should take the same form as mine. This oppression takes an infinite variety of forms. Here are some common ones:

• You should be a [insert religion].

• You’d be better if we repaired you. 

• You can’t be (insert race or ethnicity) like me but you’d be better if you were. 

• My tribe is virtuous, advanced, modern, judicious. You people are backward, ignorant, and evil.

• You must have faith in God.

• You shouldn’t believe in God.

See a theme? There’s a lot of ‘You shoulds’ in there. 

A while back, I stopped indicating my ‘race’ on various forms that asked for it. To the extent that I do identify with a race (Jewish) it is never listed anyway. The idea of Jewish being a race is a touchy one for pretty good reasons (i.e. Nazis, white nationalists, etc.) But ‘Jew’ can be just a much a ‘race’ construct as anything else is. 

Recently, I stopped indicating my gender on forms that ask for it as well. I will put ‘Mx’ for title if offered and for gender I will tick, “prefer not to say” or something like that. Although I identify as male, I don’t see any reason to say so, most of the time. Today I completed a donation form that required me to supply a title. Since there was no Mx. and I didn’t want to tick Mr., I listed my title as ‘The Honorable.’ I’d like to be. 

There is a part of identity that comes from how others perceive or define you. That is undeniable. People make assumptions about your identity based on your skin tone or the shape of your nose. Those assumptions will also likely influence how you perceive yourself, though they don’t have to. The generous thing is to give others space to self-identify and accept the identity they have chosen for themselves as fully as we can. If we could do this as society, we’d spend less time worrying about who is going in which toilet and more time concerned with whether they washed their hands before they came out. 

The language we use falsely reinforces the idea of a static identity. Could we, I wonder, wean ourselves from this fixed and static view of identity when viewing others? Can we, if not banish our assumptions, at least question them? 

The courtesy of introducing oneself with one’s pronouns is a beginning. It suggests to others we give primacy to the other’s sense of their own identity rather than our own assumptions about who we think they are.

Roles and identities can be useful the way a raft is useful when crossing a river. But once on the other shore if you cling to the raft and drag it behind you it becomes worse than useless; it becomes a burden. It impedes your journey.

To what shore are you headed? What are the planks of your identity that form the raft that will take you there? Are you prepared to leave them behind when they become an obstacle? 

It is lovely to live on a raft and look up at the stars; but don’t confuse it for solid ground, or your identity for your soul.