Have you ever asked yourself that question? At certain points of your life a crisis of identity is almost inevitable. Perhaps it’s at the onset of puberty, as the teenage angst brings with it a struggle for independence, carving out an identity for ourselves that is separate from our parents and siblings. Often a time for trying new things, both innocuous and dangerous!
“At certain points of your life a crisis of identity is almost inevitable.”
Or it’s moving away from home for the first time for explore a new work, study at university or develop a new relationship. Or at mid-life when the kids move out, you have more time, the menopause sets in and you don’t recognise your own body anymore. Or even later in life when the years catches up with you and roles are reversed with you becoming the one looked after. Who indeed are we?
In my pastoral work, I often find myself asking the question of those I work with: ‘So who is Sophie?’ or ‘How would you describe yourself Jamil?’ It’s always interesting to hear how we define themselves in relation to other people. I’ve done it myself. When I was studying for a counselling qualification, over a decade ago, I was asked the question, who am I? Re-reading the content now is interesting: Welsh, only child, daughter, middle class, educated, independent, person of faith, bilingual, heterosexual, mother, wife, stepmother. Most of these described how I was defined by the relationship I had with others. But who am I?
("In the Celtic tradition the butterfly symbolises rebirth, a change in life cycles and a symbol for the soul.")
There is so much that determines who we are. Our culture, race, sexuality, age, beliefs, personality, DNA, upbringing, experiences, interests, and passions. The age-old question of nurture and nature continues, and we are an intricate, complex web of both.
So, what makes me distinctive? Who is Mandy as opposed to Bethany’s mum or John’s daughter or Carl’s wife or Laura’s step mum?
I had a interesting experience last year when I discovered my love of writing non-fiction whilst studying an MA in Creative Writing (I would thoroughly recommend it!). This was in no small part due to the inspiring lecturer, Jon Gower who taught me that to find my own voice I needed to tap into my passion for a subject. In determining a topic on which to write about I fell upon tattoos. Who’d have thought that a middle-aged priest from West Wales would choose this. But I was captivated and not so much by the artwork itself, though the artistry should be admired (at least in most cases) but because of how the choice of what tattoo to have was so intrinsically tied up with someone’s identity.
The Oxford English Dictionary definition of tattooing is ‘to form permanent marks or designs upon the skin by puncturing it and inserting pigment’. Such a benign meaning betrays the history, power and prejudice behind this ancient art. Tattoos tell stories. Stories of tribes, peoples and individuals. Stories of celebration, tragedy, loss, relationship, creativity, music, travel, family, faith, politics, literature. The oldest documented tattoo belonged to Otzi the Iceman, who was discovered under a glacier in the Austrian Alps in 1991. It is thought he died around 3300 BC. The American actor, Brad Pitt, has a tattoo of Otzi on the inside of his left forearm in commemoration of the art’s ancient history. Tattoos have been symbols of pride and shame, power and slavery down the ages. The Maori tribe in New Zealand, amongst others, see tattoos as sacred and signify a rite of passage. Nearly everyone in ancient Polynesian society was tattooed indicating status in a hierarchical society as well as sexual maturity and genealogy. Tattoo art was seen as a spiritual ritual across native American tribes, used to protect, guard, heal, convey status and accomplishments.
But what fascinated me most were the stories of the tattoos that my colleagues within Student Services told. I learnt more about them through these conversations than I had ever done before. We connected at a deeper level as they spoke of loss and tragedy, of beliefs and identity. Previously when I saw someone with tattoos, I really didn’t give it a second thought. But now, I am intrigued.
("The 'Crayon Man' Ed Sheeran" - Credit: UniLad)
My son, Harry, at the age of 18, tentatively had a thinly lined black inscription of a heartbeat along a music stave on the inside of his lower left arm. A symbol that music is at the heart of who he is and a testing of whether his mum would freak out, which disappointingly for him, I didn’t. There was also a little hero worship of the ‘Crayon Man’ Ed Sheeran and his phenomenal palette of over 60 patchworked tattoos that tell his story as eloquently as any biography. Harry has gone on to have a few more since. His largest tattoo to date is the Adinkra (West African) symbol Aya, the shape of a fern. It is a symbol of endurance, independence, defiance against difficulties, hardiness, perseverance, and resourcefulness. It is a reminder to Harry of his time in Ghana in the summer of 2019, when he went to volunteer in a school there. He considers the country to be his happy place. A time when he could just be himself, away from the pressures of peers and social media. It is a reminder to me that this child of mine is growing into a young man who is determined, independent and knows his own mind.
So, if I were to choose a tattoo to symbolise my identity what would it be? I have spent far too long contemplating this question, looking up quotes and images and then one day, a few months ago it came to me. I was going through a challenging time having been diagnosed with breast cancer and the words of the anchoress, Julian of Norwich, someone whom I had turned to for inspiration and solace in the past, came to me, ‘All shall be well. All manner of things shall be well’ and the image of a tiny butterfly sprang to mind. Yes, a butterfly. That is who I am. In the Celtic tradition the butterfly symbolises rebirth, a change in life cycles and a symbol for the soul. It’s flightiness from one thing to another is also me. Alighting for a moment or two on something interesting only to be drawn away to ever new and exciting prospects. One day I will get that tattoo in recognition of who I am.
Who are you?
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