I wanted to respond to Becci’s synthesis post, A Comment on Identity. In it, Becci describes the pride she has for her name despite having no control over it, and how she felt when she changed her last name due to marriage: both saddened and liberated. Reading this reminded me of a thought that is more prominent in my head at the beginning of semesters: the way we introduce ourselves to a new class, work group, etc. Some people say “I am [name] and I am from Department X” while others say “My name is [name] and I am from Department X.” I first noticed this as an undergrad, when these types of introductions became regular, and I actually started to go through a mini-debate in my head (“I am” vs “My name is”) when I was faced with an upcoming introduction. This internal debate soon became the norm, almost a personal joke for which I was recognizing the setup and making personal note of the punchline delivered by each of the other group members. When my turn came, I would simply introduce myself. The funny thing is that this brought me yet another connection between identity and community.
I eventually realized that I was subconsciously being very consistent with my introductions about myself, and that the group was as well. You see, when I was introducing myself to a brand new group of people — such as I did on the first day of IST 402H — I introduced myself as “My name is Brandon and (blah blah blah).” But in a recent committee meeting I attended, where most of us were already familiar with each other but introduced ourselves for the benefit of the few new members, I introduce myself as “I am Brandon and (blah blah blah).” Apparently the “blah blah blah” is always relevant.
My familiarity and role within the community affects the way I present my identity. To a new group, I say “My name is Brandon.” It’s as if I am saying, “All I can tell you right now is my name, and that is the basis of my identity to you. Hopefully, through our community’s actions and our interactions, more of me will emerge so that I am more than just a name to you.” But when introducing myself to a group where relationships already exist — you know, the awkward type that I described above — I say, “I am Brandon.” But I am really saying, “Hi friends, I’ve been a part of your community for a while. I am Brandon — yes, that Brandon. The one who did [embarrassing incident] and is responsible for [task or action that saved or brought joy to the group]. You already have linked these events and my actions to the name “Brandon,” so I am merely telling you that I am Brandon.”
Funny how much thought can come from someone expressing the joy and sadness they experienced when losing their last name. And funny how my fiancee has expressed similar thoughts regarding the upcoming end of her life and identity as a Ventura, despite the added benefits of moving up further in alphabetical order when she takes my last name. And funny how she and I have started to create a new identity for ourselves through a portmanteau of our last names: Rubentura. Is Rubentura our identity or is it our more adventurous and public alter-ego, as some of our friends have described it? I can ‘answer’ to that question comes from an excerpt of my post on identity that Donna included in her entry: My identity is who I am — or is it simply who I perceive myself to be? It is who I am to others — or is it simply who others perceive me to be?
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