Who Am I Now?
I manipulate my own image at will and inhabit multiple identities.
Sometimes I change my identity several times a day.
Sometimes this is uncomfortable.
Often this is fun.
I am Stella’s Mummy.
I am Ann and David’s daughter.
I am an artist.
I am six foot one.
I am a worrier.
I am Ivan’s Mum.
I am a professional.
I am Gideon’s wife.
I am forty-two years old.
I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.
I played with the idea of who I would be if the possibilities were endless.
I decided that I would be a drag queen.
What does it mean to be whoever you want to be?
Is it what’s inside that counts?
Or is image everything?
What about the things outside our control?
What about other people’s perceptions?
My image is reflected back to me by the culture that I live in.
Maybe this is a female obsession.
A woman is constantly watched and judged.
A man can move through space, unwatched, swinging his arms feely, taking up the whole seat with his legs wide apart, while a woman sits next to him, legs crossed, apologetic, trying to hide beside him.
Can a woman be unattractive and still be successful?
Can a woman be taken more seriously as she gets older?
Can a woman be powerful outside a male frame of reference? Or will she be seen as either a ‘ball-breaker’ or ‘emotional’?
Does talking about this stuff turn me into a sad stereotype?
Am I banging on?
Or am I slowly turning into my mother?
And if I am is that a good thing, or a bad thing?
Is it inevitable or can I change it?
Who am I now?