Over identiteit

Good morning from the same field in Zeewolde as last night. It’s still early, and from the JvG group, I’m the first up. At around 06:30, I went for a walk to see the sea, which I enjoyed, though I have lost half of the feeling in my fingers.

The harsh winds woke me up this morning, and they have dried my pupils to a crisp. Jesse Welles is on in my ears, coincidentally, as I’m listening to the quiet sounds of my “2025 Nights” playlist.

Every year since 2020 I have curated one of these playlists, and much to my delight, they often help me to remember who I was, who I am, how I was feeling at a particular moment and so forth.

I listen to them with profound intention when I am feeling a particular way. Recently, that “particular way” has been to the tune of Ruben Juárez, Willie Colón, Vetusta Morla, Carly Simon, and my frustrated 2023 self.

I’ve never really felt very connected to a particular place. I feel at home in London and Maastricht, and to a certain extent in Luxembourg. I have some connection to Malmö and Rome and New York, and Cadiz, and yet the latter five places are where family is, the latter four being family that I myself chose. And don’t even get me started on this strange feeling that I get when I’m in Somerset or Scotland or Flanders or Copenhagen/Skåne. It’s like I was meant to be in those places.

And yet in spite of all of these things, I haven’t a bloody clue who I am, or who I wante to be. I want to ‘do something impactful’; I want to ‘help people’. But what on earth does that mean?

There are layers to identity, like an onion.

The hard outer shell, my public image. Stoic, adventurous, proud, intelligent, humorous (though my dry British wit isn’t always appreciated here!), British/London-bred!

Now, what more? I speak a few languages, and I probably think that this is my finest trait at this young, old age. I am proud of it, and I have learnt not to be arrogant. I know that I’m nothing special, especially in Europe. Especially here.

But moving around, I realised why I always lacked a landelijk connection, or perhaps struggled to make friends- I am not merely one thing. I am not British, or Belgian, or Dutch, or American. Well, I have these traits and I like this music and these values and these people, but that isn’t me, is it?

Or perhaps it is the fact that I never felt as if I have any definitive long-term friends that a connection never grew. I miss certain people these days.

Go deeper into the onion and you only find more doubt, more weakness, more insecurity. Will finding who I am and who I want to be even strengthen and heal this rotten core— am I even asking the right questions?

All I do know is that’s that I’m not fulfilled as is, and that the only way to figure that out is to just try things.

Henceforth, I will try more. I’ve nothing to lose anyway.

AJR - Zeewolde, 2025