Idée fixe of Identity

Who are you? It is a question we ask ourselves — consciously or subconsciously — every single day. It is also a question the world asks us every day. Maybe not in those exact words, but every interaction we have with the outside world and every internal dialogue we have with ourselves is anchored to this one fundamental idea of human existence: Who am I?

When someone casually asks, “How was your weekend?”, the answer seems simple. But even in that ordinary exchange, identity quietly takes the center stage. You think about what you did and choose how to present it. You may tell the truth, exaggerate, lie, or avoid the question altogether. And each of those responses requires you to confront who you are — or at least who you believe yourself to be.

Are you someone outgoing who spends weekends socializing? Or someone who enjoys a quiet day at home? Are you honest by nature? Private? Performative? Reserved? Every choice we make in expression, behaviour, and communication contributes to the construction of our individual and social selves.

Where we come from, what we enjoy, what we hate, what we believe, how we react, what we desire — through every internal and external interaction, we are constantly trying to answer the question of who we are. Each decision forms a small fragment of what we call ‘identity’. And the repetition of those decisions in recognizable patterns slowly forms what we perceive as our “unique self.”

But what causes us to make the choices we do? And how consistent are we really with them? These questions eventually lead many of us toward a deeper contemplation: What is our real self, if such a thing even exists?

When asked, “Who are you?”, we usually respond with our name, age, birthplace, profession, or family background. But most of these are merely circumstances — not conscious choices. I believe we are defined far more accurately by our interests, opinions, actions, and patterns of behaviour. Yet even those things evolve over time.

And if they evolve, does identity come with an expiry date?

At this point, some may think of the famous philosophical thought experiment: the Ship of Theseus. If every single part of a ship is gradually replaced over time, does it remain the same ship? Likewise, if our beliefs, habits, desires, and personalities slowly change throughout life, are we still the same person we once were?

Beyond endless philosophical contemplation, I believe identity is also one of the greatest sources of human suffering. Our identity not only shapes who we are — it also traps us within the boundaries of who we think we are supposed to be. Especially when we cling too tightly to our idea of the self.

In many ways, identity can become a bane to human existence. We continuously cling to the things that once made us feel defined. Perhaps we read one remarkable book years ago and deeply enjoyed it, so we begin to see ourselves as “an avid reader.” And now we keep reading — not necessarily out of love, but to maintain that image of ourselves.

We performed well academically in school, and suddenly we feel compelled to remain the smartest person in every room we enter. We were once known as the artistic one in college, so now creativity becomes an expectation we must constantly fulfill. If we once preferred sweets over savoury food, people begin to expect us to always order dessert.

Slowly, identity transforms from self-expression into obligation.

If one were to argue that expectations — from both ourselves and others — are the source of suffering, then identity is the bow that launches the arrow.

And yet, despite all this, identity remains essential. Our personal, social, and professional lives require a certain degree of continuity in order to function. Without some stable sense of self, human relationships and responsibilities would collapse into chaos.

But when identity hardens into an idée fixe — a single, persistent idea that dominates the mind obsessively — it ceases to become grounding and instead becomes a cage.

The moment we begin treating our identity as something rigid and permanent, it starts becoming a source of pain. We suffer not because we change, but because we resist change in order to preserve a narrative of who we think we are supposed to be.

Perhaps the only way to reduce this suffering is not by abandoning identity altogether — because that may be impossible — but by allowing it to evolve. To constantly reshape our beliefs, perceptions, and sense of self as the narrative of our lives changes with time.

As Friedrich Nietzsche suggested, identity should be fluid, self-created, and continuously overcome — not frozen into a single narrative. Aside from questionable ideas about facial hair, I believe the man really had something figured out about human existence.