Is identity malleable? Is it moldable? These are yes and no type questions. People, especially in this country are obsessed with being remade or reborn. To some degree that is precisely what the US was founded on. The American Dream is the dream of remaking one self in a new light on new soil with all the tools for the task at your disposal. Whether or not such transformation is real is in the eye of the beholder or maybe in the mind of the convincer or convincible.
Because though people are capable of remaking themselves to their liking they still carry inside their roots so to speak.
Identity can be looked at, as two sides of a coin. How others see oneself and how oneself sees oneself. Either side I suppose is moldable but not necessarily in the same way or even in the way one might hope. When living in New York I suppose I saw myself as a New Yorker to some degree. Whether others saw me the same way is doubtful. My wife who grew up in New York City was often mistaken for a non-native just by virtue of how she carries herself. Outside her hometown I think most aren't surprised to hear she's a Brooklyner.
Maybe I misconstrue image with identity. But again how can the two really be separated? If how one is treated is so linked with their, what I'll call image. And how one is treated very much influences ones identity.
In fact outside pressures shape and change ones identity all the time. Our experiences in the world create it. Our own agency in the matter is all contingent on our own will and what outside forces we are up against
Identity can be looked at as linked with a sense of home I suppose.
New York is a city of immigrants historically and currently. Some who move there like me in my early 20s feel like they are coming home in a way. Some who move there find themselves identifying even more with their roots. They over exemplify their westcoastness or their Italianness more so than they might of back in their "hometown." Myself having lived in New York for so long have this kind of feeling even though I am back in my actual "hometown!" People might find me delusional. They may be correct. But in my defense it doesn't feel like a contrived notion. I don't walk around shouting "baada-bing!" My time their just left such an impression on me I suppose. But its not just so simple.
Identity can be split. Stretched across continents and seas. Always tinged with a little grief, sometimes bittersweet, sometimes excruciating.
My Identity is also rapped up in the North Coast of Oregon where I spent a second majority of my time growing up and where my family has at least shallow roots. I can't think of anywhere else where I breath more deeply, feel more at home. But there to my friends I am no doubt a New Yorker,
Because though people are capable of remaking themselves to their liking they still carry inside their roots so to speak.
Identity can be looked at, as two sides of a coin. How others see oneself and how oneself sees oneself. Either side I suppose is moldable but not necessarily in the same way or even in the way one might hope. When living in New York I suppose I saw myself as a New Yorker to some degree. Whether others saw me the same way is doubtful. My wife who grew up in New York City was often mistaken for a non-native just by virtue of how she carries herself. Outside her hometown I think most aren't surprised to hear she's a Brooklyner.
Maybe I misconstrue image with identity. But again how can the two really be separated? If how one is treated is so linked with their, what I'll call image. And how one is treated very much influences ones identity.
In fact outside pressures shape and change ones identity all the time. Our experiences in the world create it. Our own agency in the matter is all contingent on our own will and what outside forces we are up against
Identity can be looked at as linked with a sense of home I suppose.
New York is a city of immigrants historically and currently. Some who move there like me in my early 20s feel like they are coming home in a way. Some who move there find themselves identifying even more with their roots. They over exemplify their westcoastness or their Italianness more so than they might of back in their "hometown." Myself having lived in New York for so long have this kind of feeling even though I am back in my actual "hometown!" People might find me delusional. They may be correct. But in my defense it doesn't feel like a contrived notion. I don't walk around shouting "baada-bing!" My time their just left such an impression on me I suppose. But its not just so simple.
Identity can be split. Stretched across continents and seas. Always tinged with a little grief, sometimes bittersweet, sometimes excruciating.
My Identity is also rapped up in the North Coast of Oregon where I spent a second majority of my time growing up and where my family has at least shallow roots. I can't think of anywhere else where I breath more deeply, feel more at home. But there to my friends I am no doubt a New Yorker,