Roles Of Personal Identity

When Sociologists talk of “Identity,” they are speaking of the way in which a person recognizes themselves within the larger group of surrounding humans. As Angie Andriot and Timothy J. Owens highlight in their Oxford writings on identity, “Personal identity is what makes every person unique, defining them through their specific biographies (e.g., name, birthplace), unique characteristics (e.g., intelligent, athletic), role identities (e.g., daughter, employee), and particular combination of private and public experiences.” (Androit and Owens, 2012) When I consider my own personal identity, the overriding visualizations are that I am a sports-loving, hockey-playing undergrad (soon to be grad student). To look deeper into how my identity has
Even though I was playing little-league baseball, I did not feel comfortable in the “spotlight” situation, and would cringe if the game winning play were ever in my hands. Although I did have teammates, none of them were classmates, and other students did not seem to gravitate towards me. Colin E. Campbell explained the consequences of these types of interactions in his article for the Journal of the Sociology of Self-Knowledge, “Because [they were] not allowed to be a functional part of the team, s/he will not develop the interpersonal skills needed to function properly at work with people in authority positions or with subordinates later in his/ her life.” (Campbell, 2003, 59) You can say me and the “manager” of the team had quite a few disagreements about me being forced into right field. Baseball only lasted a few years until I made up my mind to quit. To make matters worse, my brother had decided that he was going to rebel against the establishment so extremely that it would have brought a proud tear to Marx’s eye. So now that all of my parents attention and energy were on my brother, I was sort of pushed aside as an afterthought. I was too tough to not seem distressed, but too timid to attempt to get in any kind of trouble, so there really was nothing to strive for. It was the worst combination for an adolescent boy to have. I wasn’t playing sports and I
He must have sensed that our parents were showing someone other than him a bit of attention for once. So eight months after moving to Boise, we were on our way back to Livermore, California. Enrolling in the third high school in less than three years will really put a damper on whatever progress a kid can make during these insane years. Livermore High had a rodeo team but no hockey programs, and so once again I found myself with no real outlet for a stress-dump. The rest of high school was spent barely listening to teachers and comfort eating every bit of junk food that came into the house. Not having an athletic source of exercise was starting to really hurt my health. I ballooned up to 285 pounds and slipped more and more into a state of disregard for the future. My identity had become the “fat kid.” My obesity kept me from feeling any sense of comfort anymore, and if I would have asked for help, I may have been diagnosed with depression, and who knows what kind of strange pharmaceuticals I would be on now. For the next ten or so years I bounced between California and Idaho. Couch surfing and scrounging up change here or there to satisfy my cigarette addiction, every once in awhile collecting enough to grab a bean burrito from Taco Bell. Rock bottom came when, after having moved back to California for this last time, a good friend,