Me, Myself, and I

FEATURE | ISSUE ONE | TUAKIRI / IDENTITY

Written by Vinti Shiron she/her |  @vintishrnprod | Contributing Writer

What makes your identity? The way you dress, the food you eat, the hobbies and interests that accumulate as you age. When we are young, we start collecting each element of our identity. 

From ma, I inherit my need to create and my strong intuition. From pops, my wit and logical thinking. Everyone I have ever met, and everything that I have consumed, has left a lingering impression on my mind and habituated itself within me.  

This is not exclusive to Gen Z, but we were the first to grow up with a constant window into each other’s lives. Social media made identity feel transferable. I could see who everyone else was becoming and decide which parts I might borrow.

I knew of One Direction. The school I went to had made “What makes you beautiful” the bell for a little bit, and no one believed me when I told them.  It sounds small, but it was one of the first times I realised how easily I could absorb something and make it mine.

It was then that I discovered that parts of my identity were manufactured, that they were never mine. I liked that, so I latched onto things without assessing whether they belonged to me, resonated with me, or not. They were fun facts or ideals added to my character sheet. 

There are parts of my identity that were founded on a strong inclination to take a stand for something. Like my sense of justice that really pisses people off. Accusing me of being argumentative. “You should be a lawyer”, and I did actually try to be one. I did not like it very much. 

They have never known me, and they never will. I cared a whole lot for them to love me, even if it was for a passing smile. I had managed to link my identity with self-worth and magically made it as packed with misery as I could have. The best part is no one told me to do this; I decided it was true and lived by it as a virtue.  

For most of my life, I have been described as a nice, quiet, and mature girl. Marketable. Hearing the way that family describe me, you would assume I was a product they were selling. My best friend would tell you differently. An expert yapper, fruity and maybe a little insane are closer to being historically accurate. 

I resonated heavily with the quote “A jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one”. The first half of that quote is all I attributed to myself for a very long time. Turns out, like my moral rigidity and strong sense of justice, it might have been a twinge of undiagnosed neurodiversity. And that I am good at things, really good. 

Sometimes I would catch myself distraught and unfamiliar with a thing I had just done. I can connect this with growing a consciousness now, but back then, I would see it as a serious fault. I thought a lot of myself felt displaced or stolen. It is just sometimes that I hated certain ideas so much that I could not stand to comply, or settle, or compromise. Reflecting and realising there are words I said that could have been explained better. 

I had long hair when I was 15. It almost reached my knees. During lockdown, I grew an insatiable urge to cut it. I felt suffocated. I did not want it. I was locked in my bedroom with it. I hated combing through knots. I hated the way it demanded attention every morning. This long hair that I kept to show people. 

I ended up giving myself a bob; it was not French or anything. Just a bob. Going back to school, I felt normal. Ridden with anxiety, but normal about not having to deal with knee-length hair.

The first rebellious act I did was cutting my hair, despite mum's dissent to the mere idea of it. And you know what, it was that serious to me. The fetters of what I assumed would be a token of my identity for life allowed me to see that there was more to me, and I needed to find it. I learned to be louder and take up space. I dye my hair red all the time now. I tried to resist last year and folded after passing the beauty aisle in Pak’n’Save. 

Identity is ever-changing. I am figuring shit out every minute I live. My taste in music, my style, and my hair’s signature colour. Our identity is everything we are: empathy, curiosity, or compassion. Morals and humility. Wearing scrunchies and reposting edits of Shane and Ilya on TikTok. 

I am all of it. Even the parts I hate.  I am not perfect, and I am not great. Therefore, here I am. Latent yet high off my humanity. Letting the powerful play go on, hoping to contribute a verse where I am able.