If you think you don’t know who you are, you are wrong.

For my Master’s thesis, I need (or well, at least plan) to address the representation of identity at some point.¹ However, I am sorta kinda slightly overwhelmed because I am stuck on where to start with that daunting topic because it’s SO. FUCKING. VAST. Vast like the ocean. As a result, I thought I’ll distract myself by thinking about what identity means to me personally, and write about it. I like to call this productive procrastination.

You know what I have realized in my thesis-related research? There are 232424 angles you can approach identity from. Just reading about how to tackle it academically gives me a headache. For the sake of this post, I thought it might be best to make it as easy as possible, which is to break it down into two pieces. Ok, here we go. Identity can be determined by two factors: things that change, and things that don’t. You got that? Great, let’s dive into it.

What Are Things That Cannot Change? Or, Things I Cannot Change?

Here’s stuff I can’t change about myself. Wait, that’s wrong. Let’s phrase it this way: things that were assigned to me by birth, without me having any choice or say in the matter:

• • my race
  • my name
  • my sex
  • my ethnicity
  • my family

What Are Things That Can Change? Or, Things I Can Change?

Whether that be by choice or not, whether that happens naturally or.. unnaturally? Hold on, brain fart. In smarter words: Here’s a list of things that change, whether that be due to external or intrinsical factors:

• • my likes, dislikes, opinions, values, principles
  • my behavior
  • my appearance
  • my relationships
  • my surroundings

Disclaimer: I am sure there are plenty more options for both categories, those are basically all I got after brainstorming for a hard minute.

Okay anyway, lemme go through each now.

Part One: The Unchangeable Things

I am white. Can’t change the color of my skin. At best, I can turn it red but that’s about it.

My name. Ehhh I know, technically you can change your name but you know, you don’t have a say when it comes to the one that is given to you at birth. Fun fact, my parents’ best friends slash best man and maid of honor were pregnant around the same time my mom was pregnant with me. They had a name ready in case they would have a girl (my name). Turns out they had a boy, so my parents stole that name and gave it to me!² That’s the story of how I got the name I have today, which, plot twist, is not Nika. Gasp!

I hope what I am about to say next won’t devastate you, but Nika Bura ain’t my real name. It’s only a (IMO, very fancy) shortened pen version of it. My real name is kinda long-ish, I always have to spell it out and also, people aren’t really sure which syllables to stress or how to pronounce a certain letter. So I wanna roll with Nika Bura instead to make myself sound way cooler than I am.

As I type is, I realize that me telling you that story about how I got my name, a name you don’t even know, was pointless. Moving on.

You may or may not know this but I have a vagina. Yes, I was born as a girl. And I very much identify as a female these days. As a kid, I went through a hardcore tomboy phase (I think that’s normal, no?), and I guess I still am to this day to some degree. Though, maybe slightly more covert, since I don’t call myself Brian anymore or wear bowl haircuts. Brian was my go-to name as a child, I kindly asked (cough, aggressively demanded) everyone to address me by that name. Speaking of, meet Brian.

My ethnicity. I was born to a Croatian father and a Serbian mother. There is literally nothing I can do about that. Being born and raised in Austria, I was thus raised bilingually. Again, nothing I decided on my own. It’s not an achievement or something to be proud of, it’s just what had to be done to survive and live in the place I am. Lol this sounds more dramatic than I had intended it to be. Anyway, growing up the way I did made be appreciative of and open to various cultures and languages. This eventually developed into a desire to travel, work, and choose an education that revolves around, you guessed it, language and culture. So I guess this part of my identity shaped another part of my identity, one I was responsible for creating myself. But eh, this belongs to part two.

What else can’t I change? The family that I am related to by blood. You can’t pick them (if yours suck, I’m so sorry lol) but you can make the best of it, whatever that may look like for you. I am convinced that shapes who I am in both, good and bad ways. Not sure I wanna delve into this right now, since that’s a topic worth for a whole another blogpost, or two!

You can’t control life throwing shit at you. By that I mean sudden, terrible things like deaths, accidents, or any other severe event in your life that changed you and your life from one second to the next. There’s nothing I can do about any of that. Now, while I can’t change such things, what is in my power is to decide how to react to them. Which leads me to my second part.

Part Two: The Changeable Things

This is embarrassing to admit and I don’t know why I am even doing it in the first place but it’s a great example so here it comes. When I am angry, like really really angry, you know what my first response is? Not yelling, not throwing things around the room. No, I don’t turn green either like Hulk. It’s crying. When I am mad, I start crying before I am capable of doing anything else. I like to think that I can’t help it, but I know this kind of behavior can be changed. I just haven’t figured out the right way to do it yet. Or maybe, I just have not become angry that many times. So I don’t really actively try to change it, because it happens so rarely.

Anyway, don’t try and make me angry now just to test it out or anything. It doesn’t work like that.

I know there are certain principles I intend to follow in my life. Values I expect or hope others I encounter will have, too. Or well you know, the values need to be at least similar enough to mine, so that I will actually have a desire to interact with you, without rolling my eyes or wanting to strangle you. I primarily mean interacting with people whom I have an intention of fostering a relationship with, whether that be platonic or romantic. I won’t be upset if the stranger I walk by the grocery store, see in the elevator or talk to at work doesn’t share my values. That’d be too exhausting, actually.

ANYHOW. I’m sure I’ll always value honesty, loyalty and all that basic shit everyone should in life, but I would still file values and principles under the changeable folder. Why, you ask?³ Because even though I am convinced you cannot, or won’t change all of your core values throughout your lifetime, they are subject to change. There is always room for them to expand. Or maybe, the values instilled in you from little on somehow don’t resonate with you anymore, so you drop them eventually. Like, you can be religious, believe in a God, then be an atheist, right?!!

Apart from this, I like to think that I am self-aware enough to know some stuff about myself, ok? For example, the fact that I can’t fucking multitask. Please do not ask me what I think about your work colleague’s off-handed compliment on your new haircut as I am scrolling through memes on Instagram. Because I know I won’t be able to give you the answer you deserve. Also, I truly admire people who can read a book and eat at the same time. Like, a full-blown meal. I ENVY YOU, SO MUCH. I know I sweat the small stuff. I dislike tomatoes (I used to like them). I love broccoli.

BUT, I can always teach myself how to read and eat at the same time. There is the potential that I might rediscover the taste of tomatoes. There’s plenty of time for me to learn how to be as cool as a cucumber (Though I am convinced I will never stop loving broccoli). Those are all things that are subject to change. It’s just part of who I am, RIGHT NOW.

I think the same about relationships. They are part of who you are, at the moment you experience them. This is why I don’t think there’s ONE soulmate out there waiting for you. Please don’t call me miserable for saying this. I think of it more this way: You meet people, partners, friends. Next thing you know, you get along great. It is like they entered your life in just the right time. You are grateful for them. In that period where they are a part of your life, they shape your identity by adding more layers to who you are.

But sometimes, they’re just gone. Poof. They change. You change. Or both. Or life just happens. But it’s okay. You grow from it, just like from everything that happens to you. Everything is temporary and because of this, I like to think that you actually have SEVERAL soulmates for several stages in your life. Isn’t that a wonderful way to think of it? Instead of one, we have an abundance of soulmates! Please call me romantic for saying this.

None of the people entering your life can ever promise you that they will remain a constant in your life. You cannot give someone the reassurance that you will always be there for them, that you will always love them, because you cannot know that you will. Am I terrible for saying this? Maybe. But who else can promise you this, but yourself? Relationships, no matter what kind, always change. Either because they fall apart eventually, or because they grow into bigger, stronger bonds over time. (I can be optimistic, see?) Either way you look at it, relationships evolve and never remain the same.

Wow, that was deep. Btw, I am single af so take this advice with a grain (or rather, pot) of salt.

You know what else I can change? My appearance. These days, just like when I was little, I dress however I like. The way I decide to look is clearly part of my identity. It’s kinda like the one you have on display for the world to see. Usually, I sport a hobo chic kind of style in case anyone’s wondering.

Another thing I can change are my surroundings. I have never lived anywhere else. Apart from traveling or working abroad shortly, I have never spent a significant period of my life in another place. Yes, I have been living in the same place for my whole life. It’s boring and pathetic one the one hand, but somewhat reassuring on the other hand. I know I am free to change my environment whenever I please, the thought that it is possible and not completely denied to me is what is reassuring to me.

What Did I Find After My Dive?

I went into this dive exploring who I am. Instead of seaweed and fish I am coming across more and more questions regarding identity, and instead of looking for seashells, I am looking for answers on who I am, I guess. So, who the fuck am I? I don’t know, I’m still only scratching the surface with this question. I haven’t reached the bottom yet. Actually, I’m not even really diving yet..? I am just playing around in the shallow part of the ocean, just floating out there. With a broccoli-shaped inflatable mattress. Wow I’ve been floating for a while, considering how long this post already is.

To be honest, I don’t even know why I am using this whole figurative language about diving, ocean and water and all that fuckshit in the first place. I don’t even like swimming, never have. And more importantly, I hate diving. No, I am genuinely afraid of diving, ESPECIALLY if it’s in an ocean. Oceans make me nervous because dark unknown holes are scary, don’t try to convince me otherwise.

All this water talk made me think of this song:

Did I ever mention that I have an aversion to coherence and cohesion in my writing style? I think I have.

I am currently reading through my old journals (cringe alert), and there’s this one journal entry of mine, from November 2013. It has the following passage written inside, which is very fitting to this blogpost actually. It’s a question I had posed myself. I wrote, “Who are you?”, to which I replied with “I don’t know (yet).”

My answer today would be: “I know (for now).” To answer my own question in this blogpost: This is all I can give you, right now. I know who I am, at the moment. THIS HAS TO BE ENOUGH.

Some core things about who I am will obviously remain the same, whereas other will change or have yet to develop. I will ask myself who I am again when I’m 54. Or 81. Or when I dive back up, aka when I’m on my deathbed awaiting my sweet, quick, painless death, where my life, as they say, flashes before my eyes.⁴ Then I can tell myself who I am one last time.

¹ I cracked open Stuart Hall’s “Who Needs Identity?” so that’s what inspired my blogpost title, in case anyone’s wondering.

2 I don’t actually think they stole it, they just liked what they heard and went with it.

³ Nobody is asking, I know.

⁴ Hopefully this is what’s gonna happen, I don’t wanna die from an accident or a painful, slow disease but who wants to? If you do, you’re a sick bastard coz ew what’s wrong with you.