Being part of

So we’re born: thrust into a world of already existing people and groups; of systems so seemingly rigid, definite. We grow up, slowly awakening, becoming aware of the diverseness and inequalities that exist, to different degrees and extents. Naturally, we soon start reflecting upon our own place in all of it. Already at an as innocently young age as five, we instinctively perceive that the street corner beggar exists on a lower level of fortune than our own: our life seems to surpass his merely by cause of birthright. As quickly, we identify the ones in our close surrounding whose whole beings appeal to us more than others, be it due to their appearance, possessions or character. We imitate and strive, vowing to become like them. It is here our first goals form.

We’re getting older now, taking our first, fumbling steps in what will be an operose pursuit of an identity of our own. Some of us will need 10 years; others a lifetime and yet never find one. It is within this pursuit social groups play an instrumental role. Each and every, they are keys to togetherness; tickets away from the loneliness that is the human existence. But also: vouchers for identities. What we’re paying so dearly for, with our freedom and our singularity, seems to be the very stamp we’ve been so quick to use on others but, all along, longed for ourselves. And so we exclaim ‘finally!’, having found our nomadic social souls a place to rest on. Finally: something to belong to, something to be part of.

Whatever it takes.