The other day I was in a dance store (is that even a word?), getting some teaching clothes.
The woman working there asked me where I dance and I said, oh I don’t dance.
Actually it was more like this:
Oh! No no no no no. I don’t actually DANCE.
As if DANCE is some concept or thing so far removed from me and my entire life that she might as well have asked me when I trained to be a rodeo clown.
Interesting. By which I mean: kind of hilarious but also disturbing.
Let’s look at this.
About three seconds after I said it, I realized how incredibly incongruous a thing it was to think.
Even though apparently I do think it.
I had to stop and make a list about why this might be something else I’m wrong about because even if my monsters have convinced me that I’m not a dancer, look at all these things that are also true:
The list.
Point 1: I am the number two teacher in the world of something called…wait for it… Dance of Shiva.
And even if I don’t consider it to be dance, it’s still a movement technique. It’s agility and coordination training. It’s flailing and flying, which are dance-like.
Point 2: Plus I’ve taught this method to professional dancers and choreographers in order to help them be better at what they do, namely: DANCING.
Point 3: I have been dancing for my entire life.
Point 4: Actually, I still attend a few dance classes every week.
Point 5: When I was nineteen I had a gig as the assistant choreographer for a children’s traveling folk dancing troupe. I also taught dance at a summer camp. Oh, and I taught Ironic Aerobics and Dork Dancing at last year’s Week of Destuckification program.
Yes.
But oh god no I’m not a dancer.
My fuzzball monsters were extra sneaky with this one because the sabotage had been so subtle I hadn’t even realized that they were there.
It was so obviously and unquestionably true that dancing has nothing to do with me. That dancer is something completely OTHER. It was easy for me to speak without thinking because I already knew the answer.
But then I remembered that this exact same thing happened last summer.
Here it is again.
The day before I flew to Taos last July to teach at Jen Louden’s Writer’s Retreat, I went to get a massage.
The massage therapist wanted to know what I was going to be doing in Taos, and I said teaching at a writing retreat.
She said, “Oh, you’re a writer!”
And of course I went into instant stuttering denial. Explaining that actually I was going there to teach yoga and other forms of movement cough – dance! and brain training, and that I don’t really write.
Even though this is demonstrably false.
This was the same writer’s retreat at which I had also taught the year before and gone through the exact same thing then.
Identity is funny.
Yes. Yes it is.
Just thinking about everything that comes together to create a sense of self…
The mind-boggling collection of internal rules about who gets to self-define as what. And why you don’t get to be a whatever-it-is.
The way we silently agree to be put into one box or another.
The number of flying shoes and perceived flying shoes that we’ve internalized over the years.
I’m remembering the girl at school who told me that my arms weren’t graceful enough for me to take ballet. “I guess you could always try gymnastics,” she said.
Remembering walking into my summer art classes, looking longingly at the kids doing jazz and tap.
And being determined not to admit that I wanted to be there too. Because I was so afraid of discovering that I wasn’t any good at it.
Identity is also fluid.
That’s the good part. Or at least, the reassuring part.
When we get to recognize the internal rules for what they are, we get to start deprogramming and destuckifying.
We get to stop being impressed by what the old rules say.
And then it’s not about I am a ___________ or I am not a __________.
It’s just play. It’s costumes and exploration and experimentation.
It’s messing around with choosing communities, changing metaphors, and rethinking how you approach the culture of your you-ness.
Hard stuff. But also amazing. Scary. But also empowering.
What happens next.
Here’s the funny part.
The best tool that I know of for taking apart these kinds of deeply internalized rules (“I don’t get to be a dancer because x, y and z”) is Shiva Nata.
So I am going to be using dance to take apart the pattern that says I don’t get to claim dance for myself, and to bring in the new patterns to replace the old ones.
I’m going to dance by doing algorithms with my body and making connections in space. I’m going to dance by whirling and blocking and crossing the midline.
I’m just not going to call it that. Until I am.
And comment zen for today…
Alright. Here goes. I do not wish to be told that actually I am a dancer, even though I know it’s meant to be reassuring.
And I don’t want to talk about how actually we need to get beyond identifying with one thing or another because we’re all one with everything.
Instead I want to think out loud about the bigger theme: the various ways that we deny or hide from aspects of ourselves.
So if you’ve ever had trouble admitting that you are a thing, do a thing, have a connection to a thing, I would love to hear more of these stories.
As always, we let everyone have their stuff and we don’t give each other advice (unless people ask).
Love to the commenter mice, the Beloved Lurkers and everyone who reads.
p.s. If you’re considering coming to the Shiva Nata teacher training in September, please know that not being a dancer and never planning on being one is absolutely fine! Disastrous uncoordinated flailing is what we’re going for!
Follow
Oh. All of the things I want to say are getting bunched up, like too many people trying to run out of a room at once.
I think my rigid self-image had a lot to do with creating my severe post-natal depression. There were so many layers of “I am so not this” about motherhood that it nearly destroyed me.
Four years later, my self-image has accepted some maternal bits, and is happy to accept I can’t be all of the things that society dictates a mother should be, and that’s okay.
Now I am in new phase of my life where I am having to grow, snake-like, out of a constraining skin that confines me as a timid, socially unconfident person who hides at home and writes. Now my novel and stories are being published, I have to go out into the world, and all the time I’m thinking “But I’m so scared!”. All. The. Time.
Now I have to find a way to be myself out in the world without dying of The Fear. I’ll get there. Slowly.
There’s a Killers song asking if we are human or dancer, and it sort of gets into identity as well. Your post made me think of it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RIZdjT1472Y
Oh, wow. Thank you.
I’m an architectural specifier, which means I write specs on behalf of architects, which is because I’m both an architect and a writer. Surprisingly, because it sounds so simple when I spell it out, there are all kinds of identity challenges with this role. Many of them revolve around the fact that I’m not an old man with a dusty green plastic visor.
So, thank you for helping me notice that this identity is fluid and can be loosened up to flow and become more me-shaped.
And being determined not to admit that I wanted to be there too. Because I was so afraid of discovering that I wasn’t any good at it.
Oh man oh man. This? I have done this. Not with dance in particular, but with movement – martial arts, which I have sort of gotten past because now I study and practice it myself, but also with parkour. Parkour! My star-crossed love. It is The Thing that I want to do but never think I can or will be able to, so I don’t give myself the chance to prove myself wrong, just in case I instead prove myself right.
Convolutions. Yeah.
I also do this with “I am not an artist” and “I am in no way a musician.” And I will argue vehemently against people who bring up all the logical points that say I am. (“Look, just because I sing all the time and I play guitar and other things and I write songs doesn’t make me a musician!”)
I think I feel that these labels imply a sort of general baseline competence, knowledge, and skill that I don’t feel I have. Though I hope to have it, someday, and I am actively working towards acquiring that competence, albeit haphazardly and inconsistently. It’s just not here yet, I guess.
Thank you for a wonderful post, Havi.
Whenever I want to give my opinion I start:
Ok, I’m not a journalist but… or I’m not a philosopher but…, or I’m not a writer but…, or a teacher…
And I’ve had articles published in small magazines, I’ve been published in a literary journal, I’ve taught Spanish and English and I spend my days writing (for my own pleasure) treaties of my take on humanity.. as in philosophizing (I don’t know if this is an English word).
This is something that amazes me every time. And it’s something that differentiates the people who live their dreams from those of us who with “false modesty”, crouch in a corner, afraid.
For me it’s the “writer” identity that I have the most trouble with.
On one ocasion I was at a book launch and someone asked me, do you write?
My body went into panic mode, and I heard myself stuttering… well, I try, sometimes, I’m writing a novel.. bla bla bla..
Then this person told another, hey come and meet her, she’s writing a novel.
Full blast -getmeoutofhere- panic. I managed to escape and I left feeling defeated. I couldn’t simply say it: Yes I write, or yes I’m a writer..
It kills me.
Now, what to do about it?
Yes, that is the question.
I have a lot of things I *used* to self-identify as, that now I worry about.
Like writing. I’ve had no trouble calling myself a writer since pretty much first grade. Probably because I got a lot of encouragement from people who thought I’d shut up verbally if they got me writing. (Little did they know I’d be just as verbose that way – GIANT blog posts every day and whatnot).
But I used to write (horrible) fiction, poetry, memoir…
And now I write blog posts and journal entries. Which is…what? It’s not “self-help.” It’s not “instructional,” it’s more creative than “non-fiction,” it’s less creative than “creative non-fiction.”
So for the first time in my conscious life I open my mouth to say I’m a writer and nothing comes out. Or I do say it and then look in terror at the person looking back. Because they’ll ask what I write, and apparently what I write isn’t writing.
Except it *so* *totally* is! I mean, I spend at least 2 hours writing most days. Often well upwards of that. And that’s just the focused writing, not e-mails, blog comments, text messages…
I work so hard on my writing in craft, ideas, style, but even if I didn’t: I write.
What other criteria would be necessary, for this writer-ness, than writing?
When I was a kid and a teenager I used to think that I don’t “do sports” or … wait for that … I don’t like sports. Completely wrong. Even at that age. I enjoyed play. Physical exercises. I just hate competition and targets 🙂
Ooh! Dork Dancing! That’s for me!
Seriously, it’s all true. Thanks for a thought-provoking post.
Oh. Oh. There are many things I could say about my own connection to this subject, but here’s the thing that’s feeling especially relevant (not to mention tender and vulnerable) at the moment:
I’m not really a student.
Never mind that I’ve been working on my PhD, inch by inch, for — well, for more years than I feel like admitting at the moment. I can’t really be a student. I’m forty-five years old. I work. I have an eleven-year-old daughter. I sing, I write, I do oodles of self-work. I’m a woman in the prime of life. But a student? Ummm…
I used to be a student. I know how to be a student. I have two bachelor’s degrees and a master’s degree. I’ve done the student thing, and done it well. (Well, all right, maybe I was only mediocre for the first bachelor’s, but I did very well with the other two degrees.) Thing is, being a student was my job in those days. I did very little part-time work during those degrees. Mostly, I got up in the morning, Monday through Friday, and went to school. That’s what students do, right?
I don’t have that kind of life now. I need to bring money into the household. Even if I wanted to drop all of my paid work — which sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t — I don’t feel that I can.
Even after all these years, I don’t really know how to be a student in this way. Weeks have gone by in which I have almost forgotten that I am a student.
Explains a lot. Yeah, I know.
I do have to say, things are shifting now. This is part of my work, part of my path to completing this degree — if I do, which is by no means certain, but it’s definitely a part of my recent decision to not give up, when in some ways giving up would be sooo easy.
I need to remember that I am a student. A graduate student. A doctoral student. It’s different from when I was eighteen, different from when I was twenty-four, different from when I was thirty. I need to find my best, happiest, most ease-filled way of being a student now.
Whew. Very grateful to be in an advice-free zone. Hugs, on the other hand, are extremely welcome right about now.
Well, of course . . . isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Deny right away that we are qualified to do/say/be anything? And I am so glad to find, today, that it’s just not true! That this particularly human mindset (“I am NOT a —-!”) is WRONG!
It’s funny, that when we deny it we also vehemently deny that we are even close to being/doing that thing –“I don’t ACTUALLY dance” “I don’t REALLY write!” Denying it just isn’t enough, we have to blast the idea right out of the questor’s mind!
With that in mind, well, yes, I really am an archaeologist! After years of denying it, I realize I have the education AND experience to make that claim even if it’s not how I earn my living!
Thanks, Havi!
I am not a dancer. I am not a writer. I am not an artist. I am not smart. I am not graceful. I am not creative.
These are all the things I can’t admit to being…
the truth is I dance — I am an Irish dancer. I might not get paid for it, and I might never be “good enough” to dance for the likes of Riverdance or the Lord of the Dance, but I dance and I work hard at it. I might never be accepted by the “real” dancers — the professional dancers, those who have done the competitive dance circuits, those who have done Irish/ballet/highland/jazz/tap/lyrical/etc dance their ENTIRE lives — or be accepted into the “advanced” troupe at my dance school.
I am a writer. I have been writing compulsively since I could string letters together to unclog the thoughts crowding my brain. The fact that I have never made MONEY writing, that I have never gone out of my way to have writing as the focus of my identity (as so many of my friends have) does not change the fact that I do write.
But the others are harder for me…
I WANT so badly to create, to make art (even horrible terrible really bad art) but there is such a resistance to the process of creating when I am 1) not a creative person and 2) not artistic and 3 NOT AN ARTIST that I have shut my Self off from TheArtistInside…
I’ve caught myself thinking I’m not a public historian–or even an historian–though hello? I’m a history professor.
So there’s that.
Funny thing is, I *want* to be an historian. But I don’t have the right academic degrees for it, nor do I even have sufficient academic credits in history to qualify to teach history in K-12.
Yet a bunch of professors here saw fit to hire me to teach U.S., gender, and public history.
That’s been making me giggle since I received the call offering me the job. Now, however, after a year of teaching history and public history and getting involved in public history programs, I see I have over the years sort of accidentally developed what I’m calling “adjacent credentials” that allowed me to sneak into a history department.
Enough people finally recognized me as an historian–and more importantly, my *work* as history–for me to be comfortable calling myself that. It may sound kind of sad that I needed that external validation, but you know, the job offer went a long way toward me not feeling like a total fraud.
It’s not all internal benefits, however–I feel my work has become so much more interesting since I received that boost in my confidence.
Yesterday I started a blog post on this topic of credentials, but it’s turning into a bit of a manifesto; I’ll tweet you the link when I publish it.
Wonderful post. I had to share it with my creative soul care groups… Because that is just what I spend 8 weeks, 5 times a year) doing: helping others identify those pesky internal gremlins and lay claim to the wonderful pieces of themselves that are so often denied… And yet…
I struggle to say I am a counselor. I do it every day in my classroom as a teacher, in my creative soulcare groups as a facilitator to self awareness, as a volunteer for long personal empowerment workshops. I am not officially “earning licensure hours,” somehow fearful. The truth is, regardless of the masters I worked so hard to earn, despite the encouragement of professors who have confidence I me, regardless of the students who ask if I can counsel them (and I sadly turn them away but offer a sympathetic ear), in spite of the feedback I get about helping others move towards a sense of awareness and self appreciation… I get scared to use the label because I’ve held my “registered marriage and family therapist intern” license for 4 years, without logging hours or seeking supervision… Believing “I don’t have the money,” “I will be eaten alive,” “I will possibly have a negative impact.”
When someone says, “oh, YOU are a counselor.” I hiccup, spin twice in my head and look behind me… “you talking to me?”
I’ve unraveled my artist, my photographer (who doesn’t know half of what She is doing with her camera… But knows what she sees), and am certain I am a teacher… But this one I haven’t figured out.
Hmmm, she said. And went off to ponder this.
I am not a singer. I can’t seem to find my voice in front of people; though anyone who’s heard me singing when I think I’m not being heard thinks it amazing. I’ve been asked if I’m a singer, 12 year olds on a patio leaned over to yell that they like my singing, my friends who I thought were out of earshot like my singing… but in front of anyone all I do is ditties and say “I can’t sing.”
I would so much like to sing any time I felt like it, not just when i feel alone.
And I AM an artist.
And whenever anyone tells me “I wish I was creative” or “I could never do that” or “I’m not an artist” I can HEAR the longing in their voice, and I so badly want to teach them that they are- to show them how to do the thing that I do easily, and to show them that being AN ARTIST is about the process and the enjoyment and the feeling, NOT THE RESULT. if it feels like art, it’s art.
i taught a friend to mix paint on the weekend, to lay down color as though it didn’t matter, and he said with delight in his voice (that wasn’t there when he said he couldn’t mix colors) — “This is SO LIBERATING.”
Let us liberate each other. If you can sing, bring out my voice, and if you can’t paint, I’ll bring out your artist. <3
A few years ago I was lucky enough to become a Reiki Master for free; a local Master was teaching it under the condition that each of us “pay it forward” by making three other people Masters. He believed that this simple and powerful healing should be available to more people, and he wanted to spread it. We learned loads, and it was a great experience.
However, at the time, I had a “friend” (I use quotes because this person was not, in fact, a friend, a fact that became undeniably obvious after this incident) who had a habit of making others feel like crap by finding ways to insult their experience/opinions about things important to them. So when another friend asked me to do a workshop on Reiki at a gathering we were all at, and I agreed, Bad Friend started talking to me about how she knew someone who had studied *each level* of Reiki for TWO YEARS apiece and still didn’t feel qualified to be a Master. On & on she went about it. I just said “uh huh” and tried to go about my business, but of course the barbs sunk in. I started doubting myself and my own knowledge because someone else was saying I didn’t deserve what I had, that I didn’t work enough for it. And I believed it.
I finally got rid of that toxic “friendship” (yay me!), but to this day I still can’t hardly call myself a Reiki Master. I still feel that I don’t “deserve” the designation because I didn’t pay thousands of dollars or spend years studying (possibly also connected to the fact that I spent thousands & years getting a MA in English, which I consider essentially worthless…hmmm). My rational brain knows how ridiculous this is—it’s REIKI, for goodness’ sake, not brain surgery—and I was taught and attuned by a Reiki Master, which is how it’s done. Ergo, I am a Reiki Master (cue monster grumbling). But no. I still feel unworthy, like a fraud, just like I felt when I gave that workshop at the gathering, thanks to that “friend.” Boy oh boy my monsters LATCHED onto the ex-friend’s criticism with jaws of steel and won’t let go.
I suppose I need to go have a talk with them.
I have been dancing for almost 14 years, have competed, done shows, completed teacher training, started teaching … it’s only in the past two years that I have had the nerve to identify myself as a Dancer.
I think it’s because, at least in the U.S., you’re only “supposed” to identify yourself by how you earn your living.
F*** that!
I dance, therefore I am. A dancer.
Thanks, Havi!
I have the hardest time saying I am a runner or a triathlete. Seriously, whenever I meet “real” runners I bashfully say I’m not really a runner, i’m just a swimmer. *newsflash from non-monster part of my brain* you run races, you run three times a week, you thought a half marathon was easy last year. You are a runner.
Same thing with triathlons. You compete. You train. Therefore you are. Also, never say I am a triathlete, it’s always “I do triathlons” with a quiet “sometimes” echoing in my head.
I have the same problem as Ty, I think that calling myself a triathlete or a runner must mean that I run/do triathlons at a certain speed/level of competence.
I don’t know why this is so hard to admit, and there’s some part of my brain that thinks I’m not a “real runner” until I do a marathon or a “real triathlete” until I do an ironman. And that same part of my brain after I do these things (woo July 30) will then probably insist that I am not until I do it in X amount of time that is impossibly fast.
I like the idea of costumes. Maybe I need a triathlete costume or marker for me to go ha! look, I am a triathlete, runner swimmer cyclist thing. Also sounds good for the writing and the other goal type stuff I’m working on that for some reason I can’t admit to being.
This is such a current topic for me right now. Its only now on the cusp of my 50th birthday that I’m ready to claim certain things.
I am a writer, I am a comedian, I am an actor, I am a singer. And the only reason I got the confidence to say that is that I realised (duh!) that I’ve won two awards and been nominated for one award for doing all of that. It took the outward affirmation of third parties for me to believe and claim it.
A lovely friend of mine, on hearing that I’m now writing my first solo music/comedy show said ‘Step forward and claim your place.’
Says it all, really.
m :o)
I’ve been going through this with my own new tiny sweet thing and the role i have in brining it to life.
Stepping into things I had thought were very much not me, to discover they are.
It’s nice to have such good company 😉
Andy
I remember five years ago when I first decided that I would go from part-time/amateur to full-time/professional in acting — it was difficult for me to say “I am an actor” so at a conference in New York (one of those three day workshops with a bunch of smart, wonderful leaders — in one of the exercises we had to go around the room and introduce ourselves and our profession. I hadn’t begun to say “I am an actor” because I had just begun training. But I decided it was a perfect opportunity to jump in the water. I will never forget the first man I spoke with (we had maybe a minute with each of ten people) I said,” Hi, I’m Mollly and I am an actor.” He — as though he had been sent from the Universe to do this job, said, “Oh I can see that you are. You have that kind of emanating emotional life.” It was a great moment of passage for me. I don’t think twice now about saying it — and that is good, too!
>breathes< ah. this post was posted at such a beautiful time.
I am currently working on a big Fieldwork Project designing an anti-bullying program for a local school. And it is freaking me out. Because of COURSE I'm not a psychologist (even though I study Psychology and have done so for three and a half years). And of COURSE I'm not intelligent or clever enough to do something like this (even though I've done other huge assignments before, plus exams, plus I managed to get INTO the course in the first place..).
There is a lot of stuck here. And I have two days left in which to get it all done. I'm not stressed enough to have a freak out seizure, but I'm stressed enough that I could probably push myself over the edge INTO that seizure-place.
I will keep moving, and think about how I perhaps AM a psychologist and AM completely capable of getting all of this done to a good level of goodness…
What a great post. This is a very current topic for me too right now.
Dance is a funny thing in people’s unique internal dictionaries. I’m just beginning to teach Nia, which definitely involves dance and I generally introduce it to people as dance, but I get a little cautious calling it dance with certain people. And I catch myself saying things like, ‘oh, it’s not like dancing with the stars dance, but more like you know how when you were 3 you liked to dance? it’s dance like that.’
I remember a month or so ago when I was prepping to get this class going. I actually changed my main ‘title’ on my Linked In page to be Nia Teacher because previously it had the title of my day job which I’m not comfortable with people deciding that’s what I am – “oh, you’re a Financial Modeler?” NO! I’m Not! I swear, my job just calls me that! I don’t know what I am exactly, but I’m certain that I’m not a financial modeler. It’s just paying the student loan until I figure out what’s next {ASAP}.
But anyway, when I changed the LinkedIn title, all of a sudden some people who actually read the update email they get from Linked In were asking me, what’s Nia? So I’d say it’s a fitness dance class and there was one person who just was incredulous, “you’re going to teach dance!?” And the monster got me after that. For a week all the wind that had me sailing along making flyers & such just disappeared and I thought, what am I thinking?
But really, I am a dancer. I was on my way to a therapy appointment a couple weeks ago and suddenly an old Soul Coughing song came into my head and I wanted to hear it. I arrived at the appointment a bit early and it was a gorgeous day. I remember because we’ve actually only had 3 of them in MPLS this spring. And the parking lot was mostly empty and so I put on my iPod and the song and danced in the parking lot. And here’s the thing: it was awesome. My sensorimotor psychotherapist was thrilled at how grounded and in my body I was after my parking lot dance. I had arrived at several prior sessions practically dissociated. She had me name how I felt while I was dancing in the parking lot and what came out was CONGRUENT – my brain synapses fire in congruence with the rest of the cells when I dance.
The ‘things that I’m not’ monsters seem to strike many.
Nice to find such community here.
Thanks Havi!
I am one who still has fits of total self doubt and insecurity and inferiority. In fact,I was plagued with them as a child.
Yet, I have always seen myself as multi-faceted.
I am a dancer/choreographer.
I am a writer.
I am a singer.
I am an actress.
I am a teacher.
I am an artist.
I am a jewelry maker.
I am a craftsperson.
I am a knitter, I crochet, I embroider, I felt,I sew, I design and execute patterns of many kinds in fabrics of all kinds (clothes, costumes, dolls, bears, creatures of my imagination).
I am an equestrian.
I am a self taught person.
Granted, some of the “I ams” are more difficult as I have lost mobility and agility with injuries and age.
I still claim them all.
What I have found is that there are many who cannot accept that all of those things are facets of me, one person who loves to learn and do and create. I find this a normal way of being and can’t imagine not having all these aspects of me. I also don’t see this as supercilious or particularly phenomenal, either.
I am just me.
I read this as soon as it was published, but just had to come back tonight and comment! It just took a while for what was stirring in my head to make sense…
When I find myself quickly denying that I’m not a this-that-or-the-other? It’s not because I don’t accept that I am a this-or-that, but because I think I know the mistaken assumptions behind the question – and because I always want to answer “correctly”. (Apparently, I think I’m forever taking some sort of pop quiz, filled with trick questions) So I guess at what they’re asking, and then basically tell them it’s the wrong question, which pretty much leaves everyone uncomfortable.
It would be better for all of us if I could somehow find the graceful words to explain who I am and what I do, and let the question lead us both somewhere awesome. But instead, I look like a deer in headlights, and just say “No, I’m not a dancer/writer/painter/whatever” self-consciously.
It’s such a shame, too. Because the question is usually only meant as a polite conversation starter!
Yeah, this post needed to marinate for quite some time.
First off, big squishy hugs to Pam up there. That is a bunch of hard scary stuff. I’ve just recently began to refer to myself (reluctantly, mind you) as an artist and I have those insecurities by the boatload. I offer you camaraderie and empathy.
Dancer: I can say this now. I have performed in front of numerous people and train dutifully. I’m not the best (a fact that I will secretly struggle with for quite some time), but I continue because, quite frankly, I don’t think I have anymore choice in the matter.
Artist: Similar story. Receiving an actual art education has helped DRAMATICALLY. Even though I currently have some pain attached to this aspect of my identity (courtesy of the Yuck I feel towards my last piece), I clearly remember what it is like to be in The Zone. And when I’m there, I can’t help but think, “This is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.”
Writer: I relate so HARD CORE to whomever said that there are reservations due to not having been paid for it yet. Right there with ya. But I have to be a writer, dammit. I want to do it too badly. Even when my monster’s get in the way of productivity, I definitely, without fail, think about it every day.
The hardest label that I currently wrestle with is anything that sounds like Yogi, or in my case, Yogini. It sounds rad, and I’m totally cool with referring to other people as such, but in relation to myself, it’s just effing frightening. I tell myself that I’m not flexible enough. I can’t do the crazy advanced positions. I don’t have the time or money to go to a yoga class every night. For Pete’s sake, I get ROAD RAGE! My monsters tell me that as a yoga student, I just plain suck.
Yet there’s no denying the fact that when I’m in class (or devoting honest time at home and not allowing for distractions), I feel like I’m hanging out with the Universe. For my curious friends who don’t quite understand, I tell them that yoga is my version of church because it’s what brings me closest to God/Universe/Pick Your Favorite. So it could very well be that I’m doing something right.
You know what else helps? The fact that my instructor would probably laugh her ass off at me if she realized that I devoted this much thought to this particular bit of neurosis. Heh.
(sorry for the length of this monster comment. I didn’t realize I had this much to say upon starting. Forgive me)
This is a very thought provoking post. I have pondered with the concept of identity for a long time.
I still think of myself as a nurse, even though I have been retired from nursing for eleven years. Nursing was an identity that I really owned. But you cannot call yourself an RN after you retire, so I just say I am retired when people ask me what I do. And then saying I am retired brings up another whole set of comments and questions.
Being involved with my horses is a huge part of my identity, but it is hard for me to say I am an equestrian or a horsewoman, which is weird, as it’s all the same thing. “Equestrian” is harder for me to own, as I don’t show or compete, or think of myself as a superstar rider, but just a trail rider who dabbles in dressage, and has done a good job managing a horse with special health needs, because gosh darn, I was a nurse. But I realize as I am writing this that I always qualify my equine abilities, even though the horses are my every day world and I ride spirited Arabians.
My mother was an artist and I recognize I have a creative side that wants to come out, but is not confident. Even though I know I have an artistic eye, I don’t identify myself as an artist.
My home was part of my identity, as the decor was very personal, very distinctively me, and I put a huge amount of work into creating it. But I am letting my home go so I can keep my horses, and while I know this is the right choice, I feel rather lost living in an apartment.
I, too, am a self taught person. I am interested in many things–travel, reading, history, photography, spirituality, other cultures, but do not feel confident in claiming my interests as my identity. Which also seems strange as I write this.
I am sorry I am rambling here. I am someone who stutters when asked what she does.
I have no problem saying that “I like to write” or “I write, sometimes”, but to say “I am a writer”? Hell no. I’m not a writer! I have terrible grammar and I can’t spell and the list goes on and on and on…
Even suggesting that I might, possibly, one day, somehow, perhaps be a writer is like open day to the Monsters Ball in my head.
I am working on this and this quotation from Vincent Van Gogh helps- “If you hear a voice within you saying, you are not a painter, then by all means, paint, and that voice will be silenced.”
Love to all x
I think I do the opposite of this which means I do this..
So.. [this is long-winded]
For example, with meditation which I’ve been -ahem ‘leading’ ahem- for almost 2 years now = wanting to say “I’m a meditation teacher” brings up phrases like
“except I’m not because I don’t teach – they all know how to meditate now I just kind of, say we’re going to do it now and which type we’ll do and I always say I’m a ___ when I’m NOT – it’s just to big me up and make me feel good but it’s lying and how dare I say that – so I will never say the phrase “I’m a meditation teacher”. Because that would be bad and it’s not true and I always do that.”
-sigh- Looks like I have a lot to work on 😛
Thanks for reminding me that there are ways to look at this and play with the costumes. =)
I’m *do* self-identify as a dancer – it’s right at the middle of me – but I still don’t feel able to *say* that to people.
Why? (Thinks)
I guess because I feel that ‘everyone’ has this idea of what a dancer is. That you’re only a dancer if you’ve been doing ballet and modern since you were 5. That you’re only a dancer if you can do the splits. If you’re rake-thin. Etc etc.
I think this really is our cultural idea of what a dancer is. Even professionals in non-ballet/modern forms of dance qualify what they do, either by adding the genre (I’m a tango dancer) or by claiming teacherdom instead (I’m a tango teacher). I guess, outside ballet and modern, there aren’t many people who actually dance for a living, as opposed to teaching dance for a living. And there’s that bollocks idea that you can’t claim to be something unless you get paid for it.
So I guess I don’t say ‘I’m a dancer’ very often, even though it’s one of the very few identifications I accept for myself, because I assume people are going to think, ‘No you’re not, you just dance for fun, you don’t count, you’re not that good,’ etc.
Instead I say, ‘I’m a web designer’, even though that’s something I do, not something I am, because I know that’s something they will recognise and not feel the need to challenge.
I reckon 99% of my life is made up of things I don’t tell most people because it would mean a difficult conversation. It’s really frustrating when someone asks ‘So wehat have you been up to?’ and you can’t think of a single thing you’re happy to tell them, and it sounds like you’ve been doing sod all for the last six months, when actually you’ve been undergoing earthquakes in your psyche and climbing psychological mountains and navigating spiritual deserts. ‘Working on myself’ is not something you can tell your friend’s parents over dinner without a whole lot of hassle.
Have been pondering this.
I am writer. I know this, I have always known this. My mum even called me after her favourite writer (Jane Austen) because she knew I would be a writer.
I was so shocked when a couple of people from my course told me the main reason that they were doing the course was so that they felt they could call themselves a writer. Feeling how they clenched up inside as they said it – all the anxiety and fear and shoulds and stuck.
And then that eventually shed light on why I don’t like going on my uni site, and why I seem to have oddly difficult relationships with some of the people on there.
And maybe why my lecturers can’t understand why I’m not rushing for publication. Yes, sure I’d like to make money from my writing. And at the same time I know I’m not even 30 yet, that my best writing won’t come for another 10 years. That there’s no rush. And that even if I never publish a work of fiction I’ll still be a writer.
And then I come to photography, something I’ve been doing since I was 6 years old, and still I feel that clenching anxiety about saying I’m a photographer. Let alone saying I’m an artist.
Especially as so many of the photos I take are of myself, naked, and stumbling over the assumption that something can’t be art because someone, somewhere is probably getting off on it.
Earlier this week there was a to and fro in my flickr comments about whether a particular image was ‘high art’ or ‘a fun image’ (not my phrases). It was interesting to see how in the ‘fun image’ person’s writing I could feel his own anxiety about his selfs, whereas from the other person – and from other people who’ve encouraged me to entertain the possibility that what I’m creating is art – it comes from a more open places, flowering rather than clenching.
And it seems like the more I, or other people, acknowledge that yes, this is art I am making, it somehow makes it easier for other people to own it as well.
Hmm…not sure if this makes sense. Something I’ve been thinking about for a little while now but haven’t actually written anything down.
Mmmmm. This.
Especially deep within the trenches of being a study-at-home-mom, I feel like I can’t claim any other identity than that of a mother.
I’m a student, yes, in the sense that I’m working on my thesis, but I’m not _really_ a student ‘cos I don’t attend lectures, fret over exams, or stop by every student organisation event anymore.
I’m a teacher, yes, in the sense that I think about almost everything from the point of view of learning, but I’m not _really_ a teacher because the only person who’s currently learning anything from me is my one-year-old.
I’m a singer, yes, in the sense that I have this band where no-one else sings lead and that’s been the deal for the past ten years, but not _really_ a singer since there hasn’t been an audience to hear me for almost two years.
And so on and so forth. Being a mother is what I do, day-to-day on a very tangible level, and of course I identify with that label and willingly so. And according to my monsters, you can’t be something if you’re not actively doing it, even if you have in the past. That’s why I had so much trouble calling myself a Shivanaut during the break in my practice.
Those monsters may be in need of some kindness right there.
“An artist.”
It’s not that I’d seriously ever have said “I’m not creative,” it’s that I’ve always been more interested in making practical things than, well, /art/. I’ve never felt a need to create something just to create it, for aesthetic purposes, or to make some sort of statement, you know?
So it was a surprise when I suddenly realized that the fascination – okay, compulsion – I suddenly had for bending wire into particular shapes, and sketching out new ways I might be able to bend it, and all the many exciting variations on particular shapes that exist, and the satisfaction I got from it, meant that maybe I could call myself an artist.
It still feels really weird, though!
I wonder if part of it is because I don’t identify first and foremost as An Artist (or A Cook or A Writer or A Dancer even though I also cook and write and dance). It’s just a thing I do, you know?
You are so. Identity is funny. But I like it when you ‘dent it’. Get it? I -dent – it y…Keep denting it, and I will too.
: )
So. I recently went back to school and became a professional. Now what? I’m not an archivist (I am). But I’m also no longer a waitress or a free spirit or a loner or quiet or a traveler. How do I encompass identities that are so different? In a way I remade myself, but both are the same me. Why, I wonder, does it seem so hard to keep the old self? I love her and miss her but I rarely value or identify with her.
I’ve wanted to work on allowing these other identities into my professional one, but I see now that it could be a complicated journey (if I wanted it to be ;).
All the stuff in your comment zen didn’t even occur to me to say. I just read the “Oh! No no no no no. I don’t actually DANCE” and thought, “Yes yes yes yes yes!”
I couldn’t count how many times I’ve had that response to someone’s observation or follow up question to what I do.
More and more I want to kick myself for it because I’m much more aware that what I’m doing is devaluing my work or approach or interests in some way. It’s like I’m saying some part of me isn’t real and therefore you can’t judge me for it.
It’s often a knee-jerk response that feels completely true until it’s out of my mouth and I can’t take it back. For me it’s usually rooted in not wanting people to get the wrong idea, even if the idea they have is that I’m successful at something. sigh. Haven’t figured this one out but I’m working on it.
Side note: just discovered on Monday that I can do the fast level 1 arms with square legs faster than Andrey on the dvd. It looked so impossible at one time. I’m sure I’m probably getting some of the reverse direction arms wrong still but I was so surprised that I could not only keep up with him but go a bit faster.
I really just want to send out lots of love to everyone who commented and who was moved by the post and comments, and Havi especially. I identify with so much of the things written here.
I say that I am trained as a scientist, because I havn’t done “real” science in a year. I feel I don’t get to claim it if I don’t use it. But then being a scientist is really in the core of my being, just as being a teacher and an artist is. But I don’t claim those two either. And then I write, but only blogs so I’m not a writer but a blogger. I would so much like to write creative non-fiction and fiction, but I don’t because I’m not a writer and only writers do such things.
I don’t have paid employment at the moment so when someone asks what I do, I squirm uncomfortably. Kate, I would like to tell people the same things you would like, but we do not make room for geography of the soul to be a valid endeavor, where we could say that “I’m glad you ask, I’m a geographer of my soul.”
Eeek! This is timely because:
-the Flailing has unleashed a Bunch! of STuff! I wanna DO! and almost all the energy neded to do it
-at the same time that some TIME has miraculously opened up in my schedule which is usually at everyone else’s beck and call and my creative time usually starts around half past dead on my feet
-…and I’m been saying for so long “oh i’m not an artist/writer” that my brain says it to me as i preprare to start getting jiggy with the creativity
-which means i find myself watching the Real Housewives and then its bed time and another slog thru everyone’s else stuff before i get to my stuff.
If I could change that in my head, i bet i could make the transition from “ideating” to “working” without being distracted.
Miss P: a geographer of the soul. I love that!
So… once upon a time, I wanted to be a Giant. I understood that I’d reached higher and further as a result of Giants whose shoulders I’d stood upon. I wanted to give people the chance to stand on my shoulders, to reach higher and further… to become Giants in their own right.
I aspired so hard, and it was a very big wish (gwish!) for me. There was an incredible epiphany moment that resulted in much tears and wibblyness where I realised…
I was a Giant. I’d always been a Giant. I didn’t need to *become* only to *realise*. Your post resonated so strongly with how I felt at that time, how I still struggle with owning my Giant-ness and general awesome.
I’m in a new job situation that is actually positive for a change. I am making *actual* recommendations and I keep being stuck on and confronted by the not undercutting my words and insights that I’m offering. I’m still moving gently through this but it’s all inside of the “I’m not…” phrasing.
Thank you for this post, it is a very good and timely reminder.
thanks for this. It really resonated w me. have been doing this for most of my life from adolescence on…I think I do it to hold myself back and use it as an excuse…anyway coming across this tonight was timely as just a couple of weeks ago I submitted the name and concept behind a piece (a dance, yikes! piece) for a festival in jan, and the name is…no soy bailarina.