Who Are Ya?...

24601 is also correct.

Who am I? I'm John Valjean! Yes, musical theatre fans will have involuntarily sung that opening aloud. But forget Les Miz's hapless bread thief. Who am I? Who are you? Who are any of us? And can we ever truly know? It's been on my mind recently. Not in a bad way. Just in a 'thought-process I keep pondering' way.  Recent events have come together to make me question the big stuff. 

First of all, what kicked it off? Well, some family stuff, that's what. My mum is about to reach a new milestone, age-wise. She'd probably like me to imply it's somewhere around the 40/50 mark than the actual age she's hitting this week. No matter. When we got together on Saturday to celebrate her vague new decade, we surprised her with a video montage of the people and places in her life. This was put together by myself and my six siblings - all people who'd say they know their Mum well. But as I'm sure any parent will appreciate, your kids only know what you tell them. Likewise, for non-parent humans, people only know the parts of your life you've chosen to share. If relatives of mine put together a 'This Is Your Life' video for me, it'd be the sanitised, user-friendly version of events that I'd opted to share with them over the years. A thoughtful tribute? Absolutely. Entertaining? Sure. Accurate? Probably not. Can anyone ever know the real you?

But forget other people, what about you? Can you adequately explain who you are to yourself? When I joined Mastodon last month, it became apparent that an introductory post was standard etiquette. A post that would say hello, mention topics and conversations of interest, and use hashtags to find members of any shared communities. I soon realised I struggled to identify who I was via hashtags. When I thought of who I enjoyed following on other social media, there were clear groups. LGBTQIA+ people, trans-inclusive feminists, lots of Eurovision accounts, writers, political pundits, and - randomly - a few people involved in the world of competitive quizzing. (There seems to be  an overlap between clever, funny people who like Eurovision, and quizzers.) Anyway, I typed out a post and said hello. But it wasn't great. Saying what I'm interested in doesn't explain who I am. Perhaps this is the pathetic lament of the straight, white, middle-classes? There's no need for solidarity in the face of systemic threat and discrimination, so the privilege that's taken for granted comes with a dull lack of specificity. And being an ally doesn't mean automatic inclusion into an othered community. My identity can't be defined by group hashtags that I'm supportive of and adjacent to, but not part of. It's standing beside, not standing amidst. Otherwise I'd be making it all about me. Something to think about, even if it doesn't answer my questions. 

An early Mastodon post.

Finally, in less convoluted thinking, I've started redrafting the next Leeza McAuliffe novel. In the current version (all subject to change) Leeza's on a mission. She's struggling to identify what she's good at and where her talents lie. She wonders how her family see her, and whether she agrees with them. It's no spoiler to say, this is a year long quest, that doesn't throw up easy answers. Clearly this is a theme in my head right now.

 
Can we ever be fully known to others? Who knows? Did we get me Ma's video right? Possibly not. What can followers on Mastodon expect from me? Ooh, I can answer that one. Gushy enthusiasm about TV and films, and lots of Eurovision when the time comes. Follow me for fun times!

So who am I and does it matter? Well yeah, I think so. Is there any rush to find out? Nah. Like Leeza, I think it'll be a long-term quest with no obvious answers. But it's fair to say, we're all more complex than a pithy social media post can convey. And perhaps trying to define someone through a video montage might miss out some of the nuance and contradiction of a person. In the end, I guess I'll stop trying to summarise myself via hashtags and crack on with experiencing more of real life and learning along the way. It's a plan, I guess.

Have a lovely week, folks.