What are you?

I often find myself asking this question. With objects, the answer almost always seems simple. Parasol? Oh, that’s just an umbrella. A palindrome? Words that are spelled to be read the same forwards and backwards. One way or another, we can easily search for synonyms or definitions that describe that which we are unsure about.

What happens when we are describing people? What if we are describing ourselves? Over the past little while, I’ve been asking my friends this very question. In response, I’ve most often received answers like “a college student,” “an [insert major],” or “an [insert occupation].” More or less, it seems as though many people primarily identify with the things they do.

But is that what we are? Is that all we are?

Over the past half year, I went on a quest of exploring very different things. From moving across the planet and connecting with different friend groups, to engaging with multiple forms of art, to consulting the numerous curious and kind individuals on campus, I found myself almost akin to a chameleon. Jack of many trades, master of none, somehow better than a master of one.

The typical Wesleyan kid seems to engage with all too many things at once. And perhaps as a side effect of the open curriculum, people often lie on two ends of the spectrum of generalization and specialization. That is, from an outsider’s perspective. Depending on what we consider more rewarding, we may consider ourselves more generalized or specialized. But where does the generalized specialist stand?

When we focus on something, it seems as though we’re giving up all these other opportunities that we could’ve persisted with. And yet on the flip side of the coin, we are also taking on new, more specific endeavors that open up new opportunities. All the decisions we make accumulate to who we are, since they reflect our values and priorities, consciously or not.

Still, I wonder whether we lose ourselves when we don’t do the things that we usually do, or that we used to do. In a post-pandemic world, we know what it’s like to enter a room and stay there for a period of time that feels like forever. It is no secret that we are greatly impacted by our surroundings—our social, physical, emotional, intellectual, cultural, vocational, and so on environments. Who are you when stripped of your people, the things you do, your pride, and influences from the outside world?

When an object loses its function, we assume that it’s broken. But what happens when a person stops doing what they’ve always done? At essence, it almost seems like the actions performed don’t even matter. The mere presence of an individual can impact a multitude of scenarios. So what is it about us that defines us? Are we a collection of adjectives? A series of stories, labels, decisions, ideas, discoveries?

Perhaps you may know the answer.

Ting Tsai can be reached at ttsai@wesleyan.edu

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