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Identity


We are assigned one at birth. A name, details of origin, and everything associated.

The rest develops in time. Strengths and deficits. Education and beliefs. Prescribed molds and modalities. We take what works for the current situation. Abide by a method. Develop a style and preference.

Along the way the lines blur. Conformity breeds preconception. Many of which are prone to error. Established with dubious motives. The narrative was doctored all along.

Thought, questioning, and encounter shape and reshape person and position. Verity shifts, and so do we. To acclimate, we shed, morph.

In the process, two things occur. A state of disorientation and confusion; a short phase or protracted period of doubt and distrust. Being wrong before, how could we be certain this time. The new foundation may concretize eventually, at least until the next renovation.

Of greater concern: the pushback. Rejection by the standard-bearers, their respective collectives in tow. A natural reaction, but occasionally hostile and violent. Physical and psychological tactics impose upon and suppress the individual.

Survival instincts kick in. We resort to evasion and camouflage. The old, outworn shell offers refuge. Subscription to previously debunked ideas. Society compels the exclusive use of approved garb, view, occupation.

More often than reported, the self will not acquiesce, unable to comply against its nature. The existential quest, this lifelong struggle for identity will simply not come to a halt.

The oppressed in defense pick up arms and charge. Sometimes the final attempt for cornered prey sensing their end. Others' struggles yield success when carrying out patient campaigns more subtle and less direct. With a clever blend of language and craft.

Messages are hidden and encrypted in non-literal speech and fiction, in color, sound, and movement. Through output and outreach, the extension of self. One’s truth cleverly slipping through the grips of detractors and dictators, in elegant, brazen fashion. To thundering applause.

Beneath it all, the beacon and call. To recognize and remember who we are.

There is beauty in all that we’re about, this chaotic assortment of experience, and its expression. A thing to be treasured, shared and protected.


L.F.
 

Contraband Curated | Ditch the Disguise
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Photo by BRUNO CERVERA on Unsplash


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