Years ago, before Substacks were a thing, I had a blog. I purchased my name for my domain, and my tagline was “mom, priest, feminist, homemaker.” Similar to this space, on the blog, I wrote about many different topics against all conventional wisdom to find a niche and stick to it. I never have been good about narrowing my focus; I feel pulled into and excited by lots of different directions—hence, all the labels.
In college, my campus chaplain led a book study about vocation. We read the book A Sacred Voice is Calling, and I remember being puzzled by the makeup of our book group. A few college students came, sure, but the room had people of every decade ranging from 20s to 60s. I joined the study because I wanted to figure out what to do with my life, but the people with me were already firmly entrenched in their careers and seasoned with experience. They had already found their vocations, right? They were check, done. That item had been crossed off their list.
The minister himself began the discussion by acknowledging that he wore several hats: minister, local food community organizer, and stay-at-home dad. His vocation was not limited to one role. Others in the room shared that they too had experienced a shift in their identities over the years. Sometimes they were being called to lean more one way than another or even to pivot and go in a completely different direction. Put simply, vocation was not a static thing.
In our society, we typically equate vocation with what pays the bills. “What do you do?” is one of the first questions we ask when we meet someone. Our work defines us—or if not that, who we are related to. I am so-and-so’s mom, or such-and-such’s spouse, or these folks are my parents. When wearing my priest hat, I would say that we all are first and foremost, children of God. That is our primary identity; everything else comes second. There is something freeing in that recognition. There is nothing we must do to earn that identity. We receive that identity because God chose us.
But, if I do not have my priest hat on, I think like much of the rest of the world. My roles make me interesting or useful or impressive.
I like upsetting people’s ideas of what a priest looks like, or the idea that someone can identify as a feminist and also care very much about keeping a tidy and well-run household. Being a parent opens up avenues for relating to others since it is a privilege and struggle—oh, a struggle!—shared by many. These labels make it easier to move throughout the world, so that you have a sense of who I am and I have a sense of who you are.
What I did not decide to include in that blog tagline, however, deserves perhaps as much attention as what I did include. Wife, runner, writer, daughter, chaplain…none of these made the cut. Why? Partly because at the time I wanted to focus my writing in a particular way; also partly because those identities seemed secondary or somehow encapsulated by the others.
Who are you?
How would you answer that question? What do you include, and what do you leave out?
As part of my morning routine, I have recently begun writing affirmations, or “I am” statements. I have heard about this practice, and many people swear by its usefulness for manifesting success. I will admit that such an end makes me feel icky. I am not writing “I am” statements like “I am a millionaire” or “I am the most sought after in my field,” but I am intentionally cultivating certain attitudes and thoughts. Affirmations are incredibly personal, so without giving too much away, I will say that I have noticed my affirmations are focused more on characteristics I would like to develop and grace I would like to extend towards myself than on accomplishments or milestones I would like to reach. I imagine my targets will shift over time, and maybe one day I would like to write something along the lines of “I am a marathon runner,” but for now, I am more engrossed in aspirations towards patience and generosity and confidence being in my own skin.
My identity, in other words, has less to do with what I achieve and more to do with how I inhabit the world along the way.
A while back, I heard podcast hosts Emily Bazelon and Gretchen Rubin (each separately on their own podcasts) suggest that we move away from asking people what they do when mingling and making small talk. Ask about what they have read or watched lately, the women urged, or what is keep them busy. They wanted to make the point that people are not what they do for a living.
I agree, and yet I still sometimes fall into the trap of wanting to quickly put people in little boxes. But, even so, those boxes are never closed, and we can always add more, or discard some along the way.
I found this newsletter part about labels and identities really thought-provoking. It's interesting how we define ourselves and how those definitions can change over time. 🌟 Enchanting writing 🌟