An Identity in Crisis

Sama Ben Amer


As a minority in America, it can be hard to find your worth and purpose beyond the factors that define your exterior. For so long, BIPOC and other minorities have been defined by superficial qualities that they have no control over which relegated them to a lower-caste in our society. It’s become second nature to allow ourselves to be limited within labels created by our capitalistic country and live under the guise of empowerment. 

The truth is, living under the expectations of others— no matter how historically progressive they are— still play into ideals of white supremacy and perpetuate the othering of marginalized people.

If all we seek to achieve is to be the first (insert race, ethnicity, gender, etc) to do something, then we are not dismantling the systems in place designed to oppress minorities. When we celebrate the accomplishments of minorities as being the first person to do such a thing, not only does it minimize the accomplishment of the actual task, but it continually compares the achievements of marginalized people to the standards of people in power (ie white men). We have to broaden our horizons of what’s possible for non-privileged people, beyond what white men have done, or else we run the risk of living by the standards of an oppressive system. 

Here’s where my identity crisis comes in. 

As someone who has had to come to terms with this sort of thing, I channeled my new perspective through my writing and through my exploration of topics such as abolition to truly understand the system we are currently in. 

However, I feel that by catering my writing towards an audience that has some kind of intersectionality between race, gender, and/or sexuality, I was inherently perpetuating the systems that oppress us. I feel like by discussing a topic through a lens that satisfies the male and/or white gaze, the full scope of our potential and livelihood as marginalized people is diluted and inherently stifled since the conversation is still directed towards a hierarchical perspective. Rather than promoting other ways of defining our existence or identity, I reinforced the limitations of labels which ultimately only allows us to grow only as far as the limitations allow us to.

It made me realize just how difficult it is to have conversations on things like capitalism, sustainability, or abolition because they are the very foundations of our country, foundations that benefit people in power who consequently don’t want to hear many critiques on how these systems of oppression function. 

Simply by living in America, we are invariably cosigning on the unjust wars, the inhumane prisons, the corrupt healthcare, and so much more. This is not our responsibility as individuals alone to solve, of course, but in my personal experiences, it seems almost hypocritical of me to discuss topics that are contrarian to how America operates, for example, how my tax dollars are spent on the Israeli occupation of Palestine and military and police spending that I find unconscionable.

It can be hard to find your place in advocacy, especially as a minority, because the approaches for liberation have historically been told through the voices of white people. This tends to be problematic because these white voices don’t understand how the effects of colonization, slavery, and genocide have suppressed minorities from being treated as their equals.  While we combat issues that affect everyone, we are simultaneously fighting for our issues that are typically excluded from these conversations. 

If you have had a similar experience, I recommend that you keep going and continue following your gut, in whatever medium you work in. Our work as minorities is so vital in making sure that our voices aren’t systematically silenced, as they’ve historically been. Our collective vision for the future is strong enough to be materialized. However, in order to do that we have to continue organizing together, maintain a strong sense of self, and stop editing our lives, opinions, and experiences to fit the narratives written for us. We can write the future for us.

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first girl dead / last girl alive by celeste moses