Identity in globalisation: Navigating a complex, confusing and contentious ideal

Identity is a powerful and complex topic. I am not sure if it is possible to capture all the facets of human identity. Nevertheless, I think a strong and clear sense of identity is important for one’s well-being. At the same time, identity can be described as a tenuous sense of being that we try to define, but its definition remains elusive for many, if not for all. Talking about identity can be confusing and contentious.

For me, identity translates to knowing and accepting my definition of who I am.

But it then begs another question, is who I am who I think I am, or what others think I am, or who I am expected to be, given certain physical or other attributes.

In the modern age, any conversation about identity can quickly unravel in so many directions. The many-sided interpretations and debates around the concept of identity is not my focus here. I will only add that an interrogation of identity as a concept is not a new phenomenon. Deriving more classifications to name a phenomenon does not void the fewer classifications of the same notion in time past. Afterall, humans are an inventive species.

I am discussing identity in relation to globalisation. Specifically, I want to think aloud about living outside your country of birth. On the one hand, you have to negotiate your identity with implicit and explicit reminders of your oxymoronic classification as a ‘resident foreigner’ – a by-product of living abroad. On the other hand, from my experience, it is quite common to hear folks from my home country sneer at those who ‘run away’ to live abroad. On occasion, I have reminded some that physical location is a short-sighted measure of identity in an inter-connected globalised world. Ironically, I know some loud antagonists of ‘relocated’ Nigerians who live in Nigerian while they boast of their ‘polished’ palates acclimatised to western taste and their dependency on imported goods. I’m unsure if theirs is a case of a confused identity.

In any case, perpetuating the illogicality that Nigerians in the diaspora are ‘defectors’ to foreign lands, recently, the Deputy Speaker in the Nigeria House of Assembly uttered unguarded statements about the (non) rights of Nigerians who live abroad, including international students. After serious backlash from Nigerians in the diaspora, he did a U-turn. The inventiveness of Nigerian politicians will never cease to amaze. The same man released a press statement to deny what he said, even with the evidence of a video recording released by the government.

One could say the recant by the Deputy Speaker is a good sign. But he has attacked people’s sense of identity. He carelessly assaulted the vulnerability of those caught in an undefined global spatial third space, where belonging is negotiated, negotiable and at times, negligible. With the witless guile of a raging bull in a China shop, he trampled on what is an inalienable constitutional right of citizenship. Yet, he faces no consequence for his action. Rather, he uses a politician’s standard mantra of defence, by blaming the furore that accompanied his utterances as the work of political opponents.

Recent happenings both in the UK and in Nigeria have brought to the fore again thoughts about identity and how we negotiate feelings about ones’ sense of belonging.

While I was deliberating on my feelings and thoughts, a friend mentioned to me her frustrations with very close ‘White’ friends who deny her accounts of her experiences of racism in the UK. Apparently, they cannot comprehend how a successful woman, born and bred in the UK could experience racism which she attributes to being othered due to her Asian ethnicity. Her words took me down on another memory lane. I remembered how an acquaintance had argued with me that there is no racism in Edinburgh. One could suggest that he should read the News more often. But what was his reason? He claims that neither he nor his friends are racists. He asked me to give him examples of when I have experienced racism in Edinburgh. Despite narrating some of my experiences (including being called the N-word while walking on an Edinburgh street). To add insult to injury, he grudgingly seems to ‘concede’ that I may have a point, but he remained unconvinced that racism has not been stamped out many years ago. We agreed to disagree. Well, how can one dissuade anyone from seeing what they want to see through rose-tinted spectacles of denial? If you know the trick, I’m all ears. 

My experiences help me to realise that it is important to reflect on my values and my intersecting identities. What matters most is to be true to myself.

I think the greatest gift is to love yourself, even if you are aware that you still need to work on some things in your life (don’t we all?). I do not make this statement lightly. I am also not trying to be prescriptive to anyone’s situation. I am aware that the complexities underpinning identity can bring much turmoil and emotional trauma.

It is also wonderful to have people in your life who love you for who you are. It is a great feeling. It also comes with responsibilities. We cannot take love for granted. To be meaningful, love should be reciprocal.

As a woman of faith, I can reaffirm to myself that I am a wonderful creation fashioned in the image of God. That gives me a strong sense of identity and a buffer against life’s storms.

But alas, sometimes, amid the storms, I temporarily forget my true identity as an amazingly unique creation – a human being who is one of a kind, just as everyone is.

But when the clouds are lifted, as they always invariably are, I see through the shadows. As sure as daybreak, the image of Him who made me is never far from my horizon.

So through the valleys of doubts and the mountains of hope, one thing remains most important – knowing who I am.