Who am I, Who are You?
It’s all about identity? To be painfully honest with you, I’ve never given a huge amount of thought to my identity, or rather my national identity that is until, well now really.
It’s never been a major factor in my life, but a rather clever and interesting post on Stig’s blog(yes, the Stig as pictured below), detailing his contemplation bout his own identity, national and otherwise.
I’ve never really analysed my own identity of a national kind, not too any great extent, I”ve been lucky to travel to a great many countries, flown around the world twice and I’ve noticed that more people understand where I’m from when I say England and English rather than Britain and British! Yes, indeed in my passport, it states I am a British Citizen, born and bred, but is that who am I? Do people from outside identify what it is to be British, to hail from The United Kingdom Of Great Britain And Northern Ireland?
How many times have you watch or listened to overseas media and heard them use the full title for our collection of lands and islands? The United Kingdom Of Great Britain And Northern Ireland> Hardly ever, if at all, usually it’s shortened to the UK or Great Britain, never the whole lot, I mean it is a bit of a mouthful isn’t it? Plus, to a great many outsiders, it means little, as in an actual definition of where your from, the UK is a group, rather than a singular location, that makes it easier for people to know where your from and how far you’ve come.
Who am I? It takes a lot of thought, I am me, I am nothing other than me, but my identity may be a little blurred, I am incredibly proud of my British heritage, we have some great history, indeed there was the old empire, one of the biggest and more powerful in the history of the world, but all that was many years ago, long before my time and long before breakfast. The world, has moved on and now, we are not the most powerful nation on earth, we don’t have the biggest or the best of anything anymore. Yet, I am still proud of where I come from, or the place that I called home, even though I am, I suppose disenchanted with my lot, with the future, with the way things are going, but, I am still a proud English man, from the little bit of England down the bottom, next to the water – next stop France!
I love the fact that we have a monarchy, I am a royalist, it gives me pride in the ‘Kingdom’ that we still hold on to that tradition, that heritage, that history. I love the way that the different lands, that make up our supposed ‘United’ Kingdom all have their own history, their own heritage and to a greater or lesser degree, cultures. I smile, and use it as an excuse to have neeps, tattis and (vegetarian) haggis last night to celebrate Burns night. Likewise, I always try to remember to get some daffodils in for March 1st, maybe even make leek soup for St David’s Day. In days gone by I used to enjoy an Ulster fry complete with lava bread and black pudding when I shared house with Gillian from county Antrim, although those days are long gone, mainly due to the ever expanding waistline and the fact I no longer eat meat! But, I celebrate the little differences in our cultures as well as those that bind us together as a united entity on the worlds stage. Does that make me British? A Great Briton? A citizen of the United Kingdom Of Great Britain And Northern Ireland? Perhaps it does, perhaps that really is part of my national identity, although, I still rather feel a little bit more English, than anything else, just a little bit, so maybe if I were to choose to define myself, then it could and probably would go along the lines of English, British, European. And to go further, as the lovely Stig does, I am further defined, white, male, gay, green eyed, atheist, vegetarian, agnostic, contemplative, writer, aging yet youthful, compassionate, passionate, insecure, Ameriophile.
Do I choose, this sense of national identity, or lack therefore, or did it choose me? As a southern English fellow, it’s not like I have any national parties, movements, groups or campaigns to be independent, to devolve, to self govern, to split the state of the union. I’ve no draw on me to be other way or the other, to identify either as British, English, Scottish, Welsh or Irish. I’m left to my own devices, my own thought process, my own feelings of worth and belonging to decide my own national identity, however, that said, a great deal has already been decided for me, my place of birth, my parents heritage, their heritage and so and so forth. Indeed, following that, it could be said that I could not at all chose my identity, it was already predetermined for me. I am the sum of my roots, of my birth, of my place, I’ll not ever shake that fact, it’s laid bare and undeniable. However, it may be my choice to term myself as either British or English, both are in point of fact true, both valid, both accurate, both also able to arouse feelings of hostility, anger, perhaps even hatred in others. So, what do I choose, do I even have a choice, am I not me, and is me not born in England, therefore I am English, and is England not part of the United Kingdom of Great Briton And Northern Ireland, so am I not equally British, why do I have to choose? Am I not me, no matter how the outsider identifies me? Regardless of whether I am termed British or English, I am still the very same Jason Shaw, I still have the same heart, the same thoughts, and the same dreams, I still love the accent of those on the north of the boarder, I still want to explore our lands in greater detail, in greater depth. I want to experience everything our combined cultures can give me and more besides.
Perhaps my inability to really pick British over English is born from the knowledge that I’d rather be living and working over in another country, a new world. Perhaps that’s why my lack of desire to either consciously or subconsciously locate my national identity as either as I wish to relocate myself over the pond. Maybe my desire for James to pull his finger out, grant me a job, help me get my visa and get me out of here and over there, is clouding the issue slightly? I’m not sure, but just as Stiggy babes advises, maybe we should all spend a little bit more time thinking about what makes you you and me me!
Stig
What about you? What’s your national identity, American? English? Scottish? Canadian? Welsh? Chinese? Russian? Are we all that different? Do we all not bleed when you cut us? Don’t we all sleep under the same skies? Do the stars that shine for you today, shine for me tomorrow!
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