There’s something about the idea of performativity, about the capacity to reenact different versions of one’s self depending upon the demands (and opportunities) presented by a given situation, that freaks people out sometimes, because–
That is, I think many people believe that they possess a “true” self, an inner rock of being that is distinctly, unequivocally their own.
But to me, the notion of a One True Anything–much less a One True Self–is frankly terrifying.
Maybe it’s the Gorgias lover in me [yes], or the postmodernist [yup], or the wanderlust, but for me, everything is situational.
It’s like Zora Neale Hurston says in her autobiography, Dust Tracks on a Road: “Nothing that God ever made is the same thing to more than one person. That is natural. There is no single face in nature, because every eye that looks upon it, see it from its own angle” (45).
The cynical version of this would be it’s all relative, but that’s not quite what I mean.
I’d say: it’s all kairotic.
Toss these questions online, these musings over identity and performance, and whoa.
Who am I online? Given that there are different versions of me running around on tumblr, on twitter, on AO3, here on this blog: what control do I have over the answer to that question?