The Sum of Our Parts
In the last 20 years, there has been a surge in the importance placed on identity in American society. People have created an extensive repertoire of labels to make sense of themselves, to distinguish their unique forms of existence, and to reclaim their individuality. Yet, as a consequence, many now have difficulty interacting with one another because we tend to define ourselves by our labels, forming tribes around them and disassociating from those of other tribes. Similarity now serves as a prerequisite for civil conversation, which poses a serious problem for the progress of such a diverse society.
Like most people, I have an extensive set of labels with which I choose to define myself. I am an agnostic atheist, a queer bisexual polyamorous burner, and a cisgendered Mexican-American immigrant man and writer who, in the United States, leans politically center-left. There is a 95% chance that you, dear reader, have already started to make assumptions about the kind of person I am based on these terms. Though stereotypes are sometimes grounded in reality, I fit none of them entirely. At the same time, these categories combine to help clarify me as an individual.
It is the sum of my identities, along with innumerable other unlabeled qualities, that make me the person I am. Though none defines me by itself, they each describe an aspect of me, from the biological hardware I was given at birth, to the way I think, to my lifestyle choices, etc. As someone who crosses many intersections, having had a diverse set of personal experiences, I have a perspective that has been uniquely formed through them. Of course, the same can be said about every other human being.
To illustrate the ways in which a single identity fails to fully describe me as an individual, consider my experiences surrounding my identity as Mexican. Over the years, I have been referred to as a "non-Mexican" or a “white-washed Mexican” by other Latinos. Why? Simply because I do not embrace all the traditional elements of Mexican culture deemed necessary to articulate Mexicanness, or because I do not share all the “important” or “typical” Mexican values (for example, I am not Catholic, or even religious). In these instances, it does not matter that I was born and raised in Mexico, which makes me Mexican by definition. If someone does not see within me the predetermined Mexican cultural elements, my identity as a Mexican is routinely disregarded, even by some Mexican-American people born in the United States who have never visited Mexico themselves!
Ironically, I have found that I am stereotyped much less in this way by the white people I know than by fellow Latinos. Of course, I live in a very diverse city (Los Angeles) where my circle of white friends, acquaintances, and coworkers are less racist than in other places. That said, I can certainly understand why someone who lives in a less liberal part of the country and who faces more overt racism than I do, would find value in proudly proclaiming a much louder and perhaps more traditional Latino identity. Even in LA, the default normalization of white culture means that I can appreciate the benefit of claiming a collective identity group such as "person of color."
And I do. As a queer person of color, I see the value in embracing one or more identities and in spending time with individuals who share similar experiences. I do not have to worry about them respecting me as a person due to my queerness or the color of my skin. For this reason, I feel more comfortable around fellow LGBT folks. It is not that I avoid straight people, but rather that I tend to gravitate to certain (non-straight) spaces. But I know that I miss the opportunity to make friends and have novel experiences when I exclusively associate in LGBT circles.
Every now and then though, a straight person will break through. Recently, I met an awesome couple at an underground party in LA. When I realized they were both straight, a second realization also struck me: if these two people could explore my circle, why should I be afraid to explore theirs?
Reflecting upon this, I have been making an effort to step outside my identity-focused comfort zone to connect with straight folks. I've tried to place less emphasis on surrounding myself with others who are similar to me, and in doing so, have discovered that identity is an ever-changing thing. All human beings go through changes, and in those moments, we cease to be so concerned about the idea of a solidified self. Now, I try to simply experience every person I meet without cataloging them. As I move through life, I learn to be less concerned with how people perceive me.
Gay, straight, bi, cis, trans, white, black, brown, conservative, progressive, native, or immigrant — we are all individuals. We are made up of many different identities and experiences that alone can never fully define us. When we overemphasize one identity, we sideline other aspects of ourselves, and we close ourselves off from learning about the experiences of others. We mustn't lose sight of the fact that we are all individuals first and foremost, and members of our various identity groups only second. We are all greater than the sum of our parts, and greater than the sum of our identities.
Published May 1, 2020
Updated Dec 30, 2022
Published in Issue VI: Identity
