I Do Not Want An Identity

I do not want identity. I do not want to be a brand.

I do not want you to know I went to school in Ann Arbor because I’m wearing the hat. I hope you believe I appreciate diverse perspectives and am committed to a better world because of how I treat you.

I do not want to wear a cross around my neck — as big as Flava Flav’s clock — for you to know I’m Catholic. I hope that because of how I care for others, and if I show up humbly and peacefully, that you would have reached that conclusion on your own.

I do not want you to have to see the idol of Lord Ganesha in our cabinet to know I was raised Hindu and have it enmeshed in my blood and bones. I hope that if I am truthful, dutiful, and righteous in thought and action, you would have just assumed as much.

I do not want to drape a flag over my shoulders or tattoo it on my arm for you to know I am American. I hope you will grasp that from my work ethic, my leadership, my creativity, and my respect for your life and freedom — that you can just tell: that man is a yank.

I do not want a bumper sticker or license plate to reveal that I am a Michigander and Detroiter. I hope that grit, amiability, and a community orientation ooze out of me so naturally it seems obvious.

I do not need these reminders. I do not want to need these symbols. I do not want an identity outside of the driver’s license in my pocket. I do not want a self-aggrandizing logo on a t-shirt to signal what I’m all about. I do not want these shortcuts — these shorthand descriptions of a life — to speak for me.

I want my actions, my professions, my sacrifices, and my works to speak for themselves.