Containing Multitudes

Something that came up in our discussion today was the idea of how our identities shift, either from our personal circumstances changing or from our "audience" changing. We talked about how Ifemelu consciously adopts an American accent and then consciously reverts back to her Nigerian English inflection. We touched upon how Obinze's sense of self is shaken when life in London requires him to truly assume another identity. We discussed whether our blunt and frank Ifemelu is truly honest--when she twists facts about herself, does she do it to construct a public persona that is more consistent with who she feels like she is inside? Or is she lying to herself, too?

The idea of shifting identities is something I've thought a lot about. The school me, we'll call her "Mrs. Roegner," is a different projection of myself than the "Mom" my kids know, or my husband's "Hon," or my fellow teachers' "Roegner," or my friends' "Megan." They're all really me, just different angles of me. But while they are all true, they can also be inconsistent: Sometimes I'm the nurturing one and sometimes I'm the one who's vulnerable. With some, I'm the calm voice of reason, with others I'm the woman on the edge.

I'm reminded of Walt Whitman in Section 51 of Song of Myself:

        Do I contradict myself?

        Very well then I contradict myself,

        (I am large, I contain multitudes.)

I think (I hope) this is a normal, healthy way for a person's psyche to deal with the demands of different people and circumstances. I think one of the hardest things about the pandemic is that these different personas have converged at points: Mrs. Roegner and Mom have to exist in the same space when Zooming from home or bringing kids to work. For my extroverted friends, I'm wondering if it's been a struggle constructing a self that is so isolated from others most of the time. 

(This is no struggle for the identity who is just "me," and most closely resembles a wistful and witty character in a Jane Austen novel.)