Where identity begins and ends
Exploring the question "Where are you from?"
You could probably look at the above picture for 100 years and never be able to tell that I’m not really from this tiny town off the Mississippi river.
I do seem to fit in easily with the white picket fence to my back, head happily strutting my freshly-bought fedora and hands in my denim jacket like I don’t have a care in the world.
But the question of identity and not having a “from” has always been a relevant topic for me, and if we weren’t already introduced, you will understand why in a minute.
I got off the plane three weeks ago in Wisconsin, a place I never thought I would be more than a week at a time. I quickly grabbed my bags from the belt, making sure I didn’t mix up my black Samsonite for another and gave my dad a quick hug. We got on the road and zoomed through cow farms and soybean fields to the house, all the while making small talk about the weather.
I haven’t been back here for a long time. On average, it’s only once every ten years and each time it’s strange. My surroundings are familiar and I’m always happy to be in the midst of family, but a sharp nervousness and hyper-awareness always comes over me here.
I always try to counter it by gauging what trends are in, figuring out what conversation topics are relevant and what jokes people will laugh at. I do try, but I usually end up feeling uncomfortable. But of course I would, I tell myself, because I’m not from here.
At least, I don’t think I am?
This evening I sat down to see what I could spit out about culture and identity. But when I ended up doing was biting my fingers, sighing a whole bunch and feeling like I have the brain of a marshmallow.
I dislike topics like these almost as much as I adore them. I oftentimes feel like I have a lot to say about cultural and personal identity because of my background but usually end up concluding that much of it is hot air. I mean, what does it mean to be from a place, to be Japanese or American…to be?
One of my favorite writers Maria Popova put it like this, identity is not eternal, but transient. We change and are constantly in flux, hardly identical to ourselves moment to moment. And maybe that identity is the lesser interesting, lesser imaginative aspect of personality. And even though saying that I am from Japan has been my favorite playing card in conversation, maybe it’s less important than I had believed it to be.
Where does identity begin and where does it end?
Amin Maalouf lyrically wrote that the genes of the soul,“is like a pattern drawn on a tightly stretched parchment. Touch just one part of it, just one allegiance, and the whole person will react, the whole drum will sound.”
What I’ve reflected on after reading this passage is that it’s impossible to disconnect from our whole selves in any given moment. While there may be times where we only feel like slivers of ourselves, those unsettled feelings is growth. We hold ourselves back when we put ourselves in a box, believing we are one thing and then believing we are not another, all in the name of personal identity.
I didn’t want to leave Japan because I was worried I would be seen as less Japanese and I also didn’t want to say I was American because I didn’t want to be seen as less Japanese. I hesitated to explore other places or ideologies because I believed my Japanese culture was the most interesting thing about me. I let fear steer the boat (still do at times) and was afraid of change instead of being curious for what I could become.
We get worked up about the questions: Who am I? Where am I from? Am I Japanese...or American? Being on this earth means that we experience it all, and we are it all. Openness to growth is what makes us who we are, and in turn what we make our world.
In Alice in Wonderland, the same question is posed by the caterpillar to Alice when he finally managed to get the hookah out of his mouth: Who are you? Her answer is exactly how I feel wherever I go, whether it be to my hometown of Japan or my family’s in Wisconsin.
Alice: 'I — I hardly know, sir, just at present — at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.'
Keep Wandering,
Johnna