Having sat through three hours of a single debate on identity, one cannot help but to think about existential questions. The alternative would otherwise have been suicide, or death from sleep deprivation. Previously I asked myself about why do I do what I do, mainly because people kept bugging me that week. I never got down to answering that but let’s just jump to more fundamental questions, like who am I? where do I belong? what is my identity?

It’s a question asked by the Bat, a beast with wings. A question asked by British-born Indians, like Hanif Kureishi who wrote Buddha in Suburbia. A question asked by the Queen’s Chinese, like the protagonist Dennis Chiang in Walter Woon’s Advocate’s Devil trilogy, who spent much time in England and can’t speak Chinese when back in Singapore.

Identity boils down to common values  (among a long jumble of many other things) but what happens when you have conflicting values? Like people who thread the balance between holding on to a Christian faith, and yet maintain the need to remain as a rational critical thinker. Or the people who are pro-government yet anti at the same time. Or the people who simply cannot tell if  they are more of a striver, or more of a skiver — whether they are more intense than they are idle. Does one need to feel the identity to possess the identity? If I hate my identity/organisation, does that undermine by identity in any way?

Questions only lead on to more perplexing questions. I do believe one thing though — that identity isn’t given to you on a piece of paper or by other people, it is found, formed and forged by the individual. (and when you realise that the answers don’t really matter, fuck it.)

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Related post: http://findmuck.wordpress.com/2010/06/12/what-it-means-to-be-acsian/