In the profound depths of our being, a relentless question echoes, shaping the contours of our identity: "Who am I?" This question, as ancient as the human spirit, finds its roots in the early moments of our lives. Do you recall the first instance when you were mistreated for straying from the path others envisioned for you? The moment your actions were sculpted not by your own desires but by the expectations of those around you?
Reflect on this: Were you always destined to be who you are today, or were you molded, perhaps even coerced, into a version that others deemed fit? The words of our parents, the stern gaze of a teacher, the societal labels—they all act as chisels, carving out a persona that might or might not resonate with our true selves. "You will end up just like them," they said. "You are not enough," they echoed. But enough for whom? In this intricate dance of identity, we often lose sight of the lead dancer—ourselves.
In the West, we cling to the notion of a concrete self. But what if this 'self' is merely a reflection in a constantly shifting mirror? Consider this: when told you're not "black enough," “man enough,” or “woman enough” what does it mean? Isn't it more a reflection of the speaker's perceptions and biases than your own identity? The criteria of 'enough'—who sets these standards? They are but subjective measures, varying from one person to another.
The journey to self-awareness is a never ending journey. We are often unknowing captives of unseen forces—social constructs, familial expectations, cultural norms. Yet, there's a profound truth in the saying, "What we are unaware of, we are enslaved to." Awareness, then, becomes our liberator, our guide to breaking free from these invisible chains. But as we step into this light of awareness, we are confronted with a pivotal question: Who is it that's stepping out? Is it the self that was sculpted by external forces, or is it a self that's intrinsically ours?
Picture yourself as a canvas. Over the years, numerous artists—parents, teachers, peers—have added their strokes to this canvas. Some added vibrant colors of encouragement, while others marred it with shades of doubt and criticism. Now, imagine holding the brush yourself. What colors would you choose to represent your true essence?
The narrative of self is often relative. When you think of yourself as 'funny,' consider: To whom are you funny? Is it a universal truth, or is it tied to a specific audience whose approval you seek? And when you label yourself as 'not good enough,' ponder on who set these standards. Are they your own, or are they borrowed from someone else's script?
In unraveling the mystery of our identity, we must journey through the layers of external influence to discover the core, the untouched essence. It's a quest filled with questions that lead to more questions, a labyrinth where each turn brings you closer to the center—your true self.
As you embark on this journey, I invite you to reflect on these questions:
When you define yourself, whose voice do you hear in your head?
What are the labels you've accepted without question?
Whose approval are you seeking, and why?
