The idea that a person’s identity comes from the experiences they have lived is not a new idea, far from it actually. Originally, John Locke– whom we know from United States’ history as the person who influenced the idea of natural rights (i.e. life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness)– came up with the “memory theory” (Piccirillo, 2010). In short, his theory states that humans do not place identity in a physical body, but rather in a mind which has experiences, ideas, passions, etc. Another way to think about it would be like this: suppose you live an entire twenty years then suddenly, you have a Freaky Friday situation and you switch bodies with your best friend. Some would argue that you are now your best friend since you are now living in their body, but according to Locke, you are still yourself because you still carry the memories from the last twenty years you have lived.Â
Adding onto this sentiment, a similar ideology can be seen in the poem “Eleven” by Sandra Cisneros. In it, she states “What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight…” She goes on to say that the different actions we make correspond to the different ages we have been. When we are crying on our floor unconsolably, that is the part of us that is one. When we are unapologetically ourselves, that is the five year old who made her parents watch a fashion show. And when we are filled with a deep sense of dread about things yet to be seen, that is the part of us that is fourteen.Â
In a society that glorifies material success and achievement, one that is obsessed with the future and getting the most out of the present moment, it’s no wonder why we believe that our last success is who we are. Abby Lee Miller from the show Dance Moms said it best, “You are only as good as your last performance.” We get caught up in the moment and think that is what defines us– that promotion we just got, that test we just failed, that thing our friend just said to us. And I think while those can all be valid things we put our identity in, we neglect to observe the fact that we are so much more than our present self.
I will take my lovely mother for example. Today she called me to tell me that she walked the dog, went to the store, and got paid. She is a dog walker, a shopper, and a hard worker. But she is also my mother. She is also a scared twenty one year old woman who just learned she got pregnant. She is an athletic fifteen year old who is the MVP of her basketball team. She is a thirty nine year old mother of a sixteen year old daughter who just crashed her car and needs someone to pick her up. She is ageless and divine and sometimes I never want to be like her, and that is the part of me that is thirteen.
Most times I’m not sure who I am, and I know I’m not alone in that, but I do know what I am not. I am not a culmination of imminent mistakes that I will soon forget. I am a million times I’ve sang songs in my car, and I am a seven year old making a clay pot for the first time. I am all the poems I have memorized and all of the stickers I have carefully stuck on the water bottle I carry with me. I am a twenty year old who is uncertain about life and a three year old who has her moments laid ahead of her. I am every experience I have ever remembered all at once. I am the melting pot of twenty one different girls and women. I am a mosaic and I am beautiful. And the best part is, so are you.
