Who Am I?

An introduction

First things first, Happy New Year! Welcome to my blog and thank you for taking the time to read what I have to say. My aim with this is to create a space where I can share my thoughts on all things that interest me, from politics to music. Hopefully, my waffle will spark some interesting discussions with you, the readers and we can build a community going forward. For my first piece, I thought it was fitting to share something I wrote for the Phoenix Programme Anthology(I encourage all writers to apply for this in 2022! Feel free to ask me any questions you have.) titled “Who Am I”. I hope this gives you a bit of an insight into who I am and I’d love to hear your thoughts on the piece. Stay blessed.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

Out of the countless bangers in Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables, a song that has always stuck with me is “Who am I”. Jean Valjean’s internal conflict over whether to reveal his true identity and be imprisoned or to allow an innocent person to be persecuted on his behalf compels him to ask the existential question of who he really is. This piece came to mind as I began to think about my identity because over time I’ve found that who I am is defined not only by the way I perceive myself, but also the way I am perceived by outsiders. Whether I’d like to admit it or not, the opinions of others play a prominent role in shaping who I am. This is because their perception informs the way they treat me and the way I am treated in turn affects the way I see myself. Not only is my identity impacted by others’ opinions of me, it is also constantly evolving. The Greek philosopher Heraclitus (yes, I’m a philosophy student) is known for putting forward the idea that all things are constantly changing and “you could not step twice into the same river.” because both you and the river would have undergone a change in between both steps. While I believe there is still an essence to each individual that stays constant, the idea that we are constantly experiencing change led me to reframe how I think about my identity, rather than thinking of myself in a fixed way, I began to see myself as constantly evolving. As a 20 year old who is still in the process of working out who I am and who I want to be, I want to share my personal journey, exploring how the way I see myself and ultimately how I understand identity has evolved over time especially as a result of my experiences regarding my race and mental health.

My instagram bio when I was around 14 years old was “black from afar but far from black”. Now before you get on to me, let me explain myself. The quote was from a friend who was known for his way with words and after making a joke about how two people were “far from similar but similar from afar”, I asked for help to come up with my instagram bio and he obliged. I feel like that short (very embarrassing) sentence encapsulates the way I felt in my black identity. Having grown up in predominantly white environments, I had become used to having white people question my blackness because I didn’t fit their preconceived perceptions of what black people were supposed to be like. I distinctly remember going to a friend’s house after primary school and being called a bounty by their older brother (the gag is bounties are black on the outside and white on the inside…). I always felt confused when non-black people would make comments on my blackness, because I questioned their authority to determine how black I was, however these comments were not exclusive to white people.

Being raised in a Nigerian household, I had become accustomed to being called “butter” or “oyinbo” (white) because of my quiet voice, my gentle demeanour and the cardinal sin of eating pounded yam with a fork. What can I say, it’s more efficient. This combination of factors contributed to a sense of discomfort in my own skin which had negative consequences as I got to university. I was excited about the prospect of going from a predominantly white school to an environment with significantly more black people, but the reality was far from what I had anticipated. Rather than feeling empowered by seeing so many unapologetically black people, I felt intimidated and afraid that I wouldn’t fit in, that they’d be like everyone else, and question how “black” I was. An example that always comes to mind when I reflect on my lack of confidence in my black identity is the time I saw someone wear their durag with an air of self-assuredness into lectures. I was blown away by their confidence because the one time I attempted to wear a durag in public while at school I was SWEATING profusely. I was yearning for that self-assurance to carry myself with pride. This lack of confidence in my racial identity meant that rather than going out and making friends like normal freshers, I started to isolate myself, which inevitably had negative consequences for my mental health. In hindsight, it’s fascinating to see how doubts about my racial identity that started at such a young age could have such a profound effect not only on my identity but also on my mental health but it goes to show the way these things compound over time.

The sort of identity crisis I faced due to the issues concerning my race contributed significantly to the mental health issues I struggled with at the time. Not only was I conflicted about who I was as a black man, but my uncharacteristic lack of attendance to lectures and subsequent poor results led me to question who I was as a student, as academics was something I once prided myself on. Slowly but surely all the things that used to make Ezra, Ezra began to unravel and I struggled to find joy in music, acting or sport. Without these things I felt like I was a shell of myself. “Health is the crown on the head of the healthy that only the unwell can see”. I remember reading this quote last year and resonating deeply with it and it has stuck with me ever since.I don’t want to go into details but in my lowest moments, I would look at other people who were seemingly happy with immense envy, I wanted to feel what they had. I had no idea who I was anymore or what made me tick. That was until I went home for Easter and came across Dom Toretto’s F word. Family. I am blessed with a supportive family who could tell that things weren’t right, from my lack of appetite to strange sleeping habits. Over time, with their help, I was gradually able to get out of the darkest point in my life. It wasn’t easy or sudden, but it was a process that I’m grateful for.

After being at home for a few months due to lockdown, a combination of factors led me to experience my first manic episode. A manic episode is where you experience over-active and excited behaviour that can have a significant impact on your day-to-day life. I felt like I was on top of the world and everything made sense to me, little did I know how frightening it must have seemed to people on the outside. Eventually, after some rash decisions made in that state, I was brought to the hospital. The experience of the hospital is a story for another day but it was the first step towards my diagnosis. After a second episode later in the summer, it was confirmed that I had bipolar disorder and a lot of things started to make more sense to me. My diagnosis had a significant effect on the way I saw myself. The fact that I had to take medication every day and the constant trips to the hospital served as a sobering reminder that I wasn’t well. It made me wonder how long this problem had existed as I thought about my mental health struggles in school. Especially after experiencing mania, it’s tough to work out what you actually feel or what was just done/said in that heightened state, But what I was grateful for was a chance to redefine who I am. I started to find joy in the things that I used to love doing, music, acting, and sport. I also began to feel more confident in pointing out what I didn’t enjoy. Despite the significant challenges posed to my identity, with regards to both mental health and race, Sigmund Freud’s words come to mind: “One day, in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as the most beautiful.”. In hindsight, the struggle I experienced has helped me to define who I want to be, in a way it feels as though I’ve gone through the fire and come out a far more refined individual.

Carol Dweck came up with the idea of a fixed mindset versus a growth mindset. Someone with a fixed mindset believes their qualities are set in stone and thus must constantly prove them. However, a growth mindset, on the other hand, is based on the belief that your basic qualities are things you can cultivate through your efforts. Although people may differ in every way — in their initial talents and aptitudes, interests, or temperaments — everyone can change and grow through application and experience. I think that this is a beautiful concept and relates to me as I realised that who I am isn’t stagnant. I had a conversation with a friend who beautifully said that our identity evolves over time with external factors as well as introspection and I think that is a great way to put it. Society creates convenient categories for us based on our identities ranging from race to gender and it’s so easy to buy into this idea that we are fixed products of these fixed identities, leaving us feeling stuck in our current state. The realisation that we have the agency to progress and transcend our situation at any given time is a truly empowering one.

So to answer Valjean’s existential question: I am Ezra Oluwafeyisayo Adetokunbo Olaoya and I am a work in progress.