To be able to tell the truth about yourself is a privilege
The pressure to fit may be universal but the psychological tax is borne by a few
Is there a job, a name, a school, an address, a region, a nationality, a mishap, a song, a family member, a car, a language that is a part of you that you never talk about?
Accents that change, mannerisms that selectively creep in, hobbies that only surface with certain others, gastronomical adventures that we embark on only when we risk getting left behind — nobody wants to be uncool but fitting in means trying too hard and that is uncool.
After years of trying to establish conformity as a social norm, purveyors of social norms, whoever they might be, have now decided to reward people for jutting out, for being non-conformists. I am obviously speaking from an urban Indian vantage point, where everyone now wants to be different and unique, so much so that the pursuit has become nonunique.
But one fine day, I was living in my bubble and the elders in my family interviewed potential security guards, I couldn’t help but notice the spectrum of responses these candidates had on questions about identity.
My grandfather was following the cadence of asking each person their names, dates of birth and native place — information that was available on the verified Aadhar Card which was right in front of him, but it was his way of identifying phony applicants. I have my doubts about the validity of this method, but I don’t think my input would’ve made a difference. All but one candidate got this wrong — a candidate from UP (as per his Aadhar card), who very ingenuously said that he was born on the outskirts of Chandigarh.
My grandfather immediately pointed out the discrepancy, to which the man replied that he was raised here and hasn’t spent too much time in UP to have those traits, jestingly said, “Jeb dekhlo, gutka nahin hai. (Check my pockets, there is no chewing tobacco)” which may have been funny then but in retrospect, this man did not have the privilege of truth.
We wear our identities on our faces, in our names, on our tongues, and in our attire.
This privilege of truth is an intersection of the perceived importance of your current social status and how lovingly you embrace all the different parts of yourself.
When we are proud of this identity, we accentuate it — wear that bindi, listen to regional music, eat that regional food, and give our mother tongues the respect they deserve. When we aren’t, we attenuate — silence our concerns, limit our lexicon, conceal information, and display only the parts of ourselves that will not subject us to judgments based on prejudices.
We live different lives in different spaces with different people and truth be told, we’re all liars of varying degrees and we risk being exposed every time people who have known us from various stages of life come together. I’m not saying it’s a good thing or a bad thing, it’s a reality — some of us live disintegrated lives and that’s okay, we cope differently and that different could potentially look like insanity but we’re only human and we just want to be loved.
We conceal information about our families, our lineage because some of us have been programmed to be ashamed of this lesser past.
Very few people know I spent the first two years of my life in Kurali, Punjab and now that I have finally accepted, it is a part of my self-serving ‘humble beginnings’ trope — not a simple truth.
Putting aside the monstrous notion of fitting in (at least how it’s made out to be on social media), let us think of behavioural changes in a more benign and adaptive context of code-switching.
Code-switching is a highly flexible and multipurpose social skill. It can help build connections, establish solidarity and exhibit ingroup affiliation. Code-switching may stifle cultural expression, when members of minority groups self-silence and conceal aspects of their cultural identity to conform to dominant norms, it can sustain and reinforce mechanisms of oppression.
It is exhausting to manicure your natural being to fit in: the psychological tax it takes to do the code-switching work that comparatively privileged people don’t need to do should not be forgotten.
Resisting the mechanisms of oppression that stifle culture requires humility and honest reflection upon what a ‘good security guard’ or a ‘student’ or a ‘fugitive’ looks like. It demands that we think twice before jumping to conclusions about one’s intelligence based on their accent or the clothes they wear. It means working towards a society where everyone doesn’t just nominally ‘fit in’ with some predetermined mould, sculpted by those in positions of power and privilege. Instead, it involves a society where we learn and grow from our cultural differences, and where cultural difference is respected, not stifled, and where everyone doesn’t just exist, but belongs in their own skin, as they are.
When we scowl at people for not being themselves and living multiple lives, poor sense prevails.
Maybe, that’s why we need a myriad of relationships in our lives to fit our contracting and expanding selves. Every time, we spend time with someone else, we take a break from parts of us that are too demanding, too embarrassing.
We’re hardly a one size fits all arrangement, and it is only adaptive to want to fit in. Very ‘self-actualised’ people live integrated lives and let’s be honest about the insecurities that creep in about some parts of our identities and what even is self-actualisation.
Do I have it in me to extend the courtesy of a space where I allow for people to proudly belong in their own skin, as they are?
or
Am I too blinded by my limited understanding and superficial analysis of what is worthy and what is cheap?
I hope the answer to the former is a yes and if it isn’t we have work to do and unfortunately, we have a lot of work to do.
