In recent decades we have come to think and talk a lot about identity. However, what we mean by identity is rarely defined and often includes a multitude of meanings.
In a general way we think of identity to mean "who I am", with the common implication being that this is a given and not up for discussion or change. Rather, we talk about 'being true to our identity'. In other words, we see our task as aligning ourselves faithfully with our given identity in order to be authentically ourselves. In so doing we tend not to acknowledge any choice over our identity. Hence, it is not surprising that we feel misunderstood, offended, or even outraged, when someone challenges some aspect of our identity. After all, how can I change who I am? How dare they!
On the contrary, I think that our identity is largely a matter of choice; moreover it can and does change with time.
So, what factors influence our identity?
- there are attributes we are born with, such as ethnicity, sex, hair colour - i.e. our genetic make-up
- there are cultural aspects to our identity, such as nationality, caste, cultural norms and expectations, which may include religion
- and there are behavioural facets to our identity, such as work roles, interests and preferences.
It is important to note that these are not distinct and separate categories - for example one may be Jewish by birth, by culture or by chosen religious practice.
But these are all factors that influence rather than determine our identity. For example, you may be red-headed by birth, but whether you see this as part of your identity depends on what importance you give this; if it is unimportant, it is just an incidental fact about you. The importance or significance we ascribe to a particular fact about us, in turn shapes how we perceive our identity.
The problem occurs when we feel defined - by others or by society - by some attribute or behaviour of ours which we do not take to be particularly important. For example, if you are a mother, a lawyer and campaigner for human rights, but others only see you as 'disabled' because of the wheelchair you use, then this is very likely to be frustrating! For good reasons we are encouraged to see 'a person with a disability', rather than a 'disabled person'.
While that example might be clear, others are not: do we see 'a gay man' or 'a man who is gay' or, indeed, just 'a man'? There is no right answer to this. It depends on what importance that person places on their same-sex attraction and whether they see that as a key part of their identity. [In saying this, I am accepting that a person's identity is defined by their own views, rather than the views of the observer.]
Moreover, although we tend to think that the 'real me', the 'inner me', remains unchanged whatever our age or circumstance, we do change our identity over time. As we move from child to teenager to adult, perhaps to partner, parent, grand-parent - or from student to unemployed person, to employee, to retiree - our priorities, interests, focus and values change. The young 'left-wing-radical' becomes rather more conservative with age.
There was a time when I certainly didn't think of myself as a Christian, but now it is one of the things I hold most dear, a key part of my identity. But what changed? My upbringing and cultural circumstances haven't changed, nor has my genetic make-up. Yet my behaviour, feelings and the values I hold dear have changed in ways I count very important. So my identity has changed. (You might say - excuse the cliché - that I was 'born again'!)
So, when you hear someone talking about his or her identity in ways that imply they have no choice in the matter, I would inject a note of caution, and look to the choices we each make along the way in defining our identity.
We talk about 'being true to our feelings' as if to do so is to be 'honest', 'authentic', 'natural', to really 'be ourselves'. There is an implicit but clear notion that this is good and should be encouraged.
Working as a counsellor I am certainly interested in people's feelings; these give information and meaning to bald facts about a person and their behaviour. But the common assumption is that feelings are neither good nor bad, right or wrong - they 'just are'.
For example, if I feel hurt after a confrontation, we tend not to make judgements about whether it was right or wrong to feel hurt; we are more likely to ask what it was that hurt, or to agree that it was quite natural to feel hurt after such a bruising encounter.
But this is to overlook the great degree to which our thinking influences - even begets - our feelings. And our thinking is, in turn, heavily influenced by societal norms and our own worldview.
So, returning to my simple example, it may be that I am hurt because some uncomfortable truth about me is brought to light in the confrontation, and I think, "who do they think they are to pass judgement upon me?". So it is my pride that is hurt.
But from a Christian perspective, my sinful proud nature has been revealed. My feeling of hurt was a further outworking of this sin. A more Godly response would have been to admit my arrogance, humbly take it to God and to praise Him that He loves me nonetheless. So, not hurt, but gratitude to the other person for speaking the truth, and to God for His forgiveness!
So, it turns out that feelings, far from being neutral or 'just being whatever they are', reveal our (usually sinful) nature.
A blunter way of saying this would be: thank God that I am not being really true to my feelings - for otherwise I too would be a thief, a murderer, a tyrant.
What about you?
Isn't it interesting how we identify ourselves? For example, people commonly define themselves by their work: "I'm a teacher"; sometimes by their sexual orientation: "I'm gay"; and sometimes by their faith: "I'm a Christian". In my particular case, in the 'About me' section on this blog I said 'I work as a counsellor' and also defined myself by saying 'I am a Christian'.
I understand that we need a simple way of introducing ourselves, but I am curious about how particular labels become such central parts of our identity that they are the first things we say when we introduce ourselves, and what effect this has on us and others.
1. Labels are always a shortcut
"Hello, I'm Mark and I'm a counsellor." Even though this is true, it is not a proper identity – I am also a husband, a father, a manager, and like paddling a canoe. Does it seem to change anything if I tell you that I am also a software programmer, a bass guitarist, and a 'biker' (motorcyclist)? We seem to have moved some way from the 'counsellor' label, but even this longer description merely lists some of the things I do, rather than 'who I am'...
In using labels as short-cuts, we both avoid the complexity and miss the richness of real relating; we hide many aspects of ourselves, dealing instead with stereotypes. These simplify our dealings with each other enormously, but at what cost?
2. Labels come to define our identity; they become self-fulfilling - not just descriptive but prescriptive; they influence our behaviour.
When a label becomes a central part of our identity it can be very restrictive. A label round our neck - even if we put it there ourselves - quickly becomes very difficult to remove.
If I define myself as 'a counsellor', then I start to behave in the ways that I think 'a counsellor' should behave, which in some measure will be a false self. And to what extent am I able to put that aside when I am being a husband or a friend, etc? If I continue to act as 'a counsellor' within those relationships, I threaten those relationships as my friends expect me to be a friend and my wife expects me to be a husband; neither asked for a counsellor.
3. A label can be a way of not taking responsibility; it can become an excuse.
Just as a label encourages us to behave in certain ways, it discourages us from behaving in other ways. When my church wants someone to help with serving the coffee after service, it is too easy for me to brush off their request for help - after all, I am 'a counsellor' and not a waiter. So I have excused myself from getting involved; I am of no use to them at all.
4. Another risk of labels is that we come to believe they are true.
I am 'a counsellor' in that this is what I am employed to do, but this side-steps questions about whether I am a good counsellor, or am proficient in some areas of counselling and weak in others, or am growing in knowledge or becoming rusty as a counsellor. The simplistic identity-label allows, in fact encourages, me to ignore all such honest reflections. We come to take its truth as self-evident. If we hold a label tightly in our heart, then what are we missing and what are we avoiding?
We've seen that our labels are gross simplifications, come to define and prescribe our identity, and are something we can hide behind. Moreover, there is a risk that we come to believe in them ourselves and give them a status and a precision they do not deserve.
I have used a simple 'counsellor' label as an example. Let's apply this to two other labels, one that isn't mine and one that is.
I gave an example above of people who define themselves by their sexual orientation, e.g. "I'm gay". Does what I have written still apply? I think it does. That label is certainly a short-cut, omitting saying a great deal of other things about a person. It is a label that some hold very tightly in their heart and can come to prescribe identity and behaviour; and it is possible to believe it is 'true', so avoiding the personal history and complexities that cannot be captured in a simple straight/gay definition. (And that last phrase may begin to rankle with those for whom this is a core part of their identity ... which also applies to straight people too, of course!)
More personally, I'm interested in my self-definition in my 'About me' bio. I said I 'work as a counsellor', which is different from saying 'I am a counsellor'. However, I also defined myself by saying 'I am a Christian', so it's personally challenging to consider whether all that I put above still holds true in my identity as 'a Christian'. Yes, this is also a short-cut; it does come to define and prescribe my identity and not just describe it. It's true that I may at times hide behind the label and I may also become complacent in assuming it's truth, when ultimately it will be God who decides whether this label fits when he looks up his Book of Life. (And some Christians will begin to prickle at the notion that their Christianity could or should be questioned.)
Used as a brief introduction, labels hide more than they reveal. They carry power and influence, for ourselves and our hearers. We need to hold labels lightly, even such core-identity-labels as these two examples.
