Your Opinion Is Not Your Identity

I'm very non-confrontational, my therapist says it's because I'm a people pleaser. I say it's because my parents are both non-confrontational and I just emulated them. Let's say we're both right. It doesn't matter. When necessary, I'll step up and make get what's mine, but I cannot stand open-ended arguments. You know the type; arguments that spin up in online forums or at the Thanksgiving table about politics. There's a pattern to the fervor surrounding these endless open-ended arguments. Be it politics, Apple vs. Android, or even the eternal GOAT conversation: Kobe, Jordan or LeBron. Why is it that debates never seem to reach the same fervor when discussing the intricacies of gourmet cooking or the nuances of abstract art?

Diving into debates, whether they concern iOS vs. Android, the spiritual intricacies of religions, political ideologies, or sports allegiances, there's a notable absence of a barrier to entry.

Opinions are like *you know whats*

everybody has one.

And no one feels the need to have watched every NBA game to weigh in on the GOAT debate, much like they don't feel obligated to be the definitive tech expert to choose between Apple and Android. The doors to these debates are flung wide open, and all are invited. The common thread across most debates that result in endless open-ended and fervent opinions is that they're often around topics where there's no threshold of expertise for expressing an opinion. The only qualifier is an opinion.

It becomes clear that such debates go beyond the superficial. They are intrinsically linked to our sense of identity. Nowhere is this more apparent than politics. The term identity politics underscores this phenomenon, where individual interests and perspectives are formed based on social groups and personal characteristics. This realm of politics intensifies the debate by intertwining personal identities with broader political issues, making conversations even more personal and, at times, divisive. Like identity politics, claiming Jordan as the GOAT isn't just about statistics; it's often a nod to an era, a style of play, perhaps even memories of one's youth. Similarly, aligning with LeBron might be less about his on-court prowess and more about the era of basketball one is most familiar with, or his off-court contributions. The choice between Apple and Android, or a political or religious stance, is similarly charged. They become reflections of our values, experiences, and personal narratives.

While these topics ignite passionate debates, it would be naive to assume there's no objective foundation within them. Yes, Jordan and LeBron played in different eras with different challenges, but that doesn't mean we can't evaluate their skills, impact, or contributions to the game. The real challenge is navigating these discussions without letting personal biases cloud judgment.

This brings me to a realization: for truly enriching discourse, we might need to consciously detach subjects from our identity fabric. Doing so doesn't dilute the passion but allows for a clarity of thought. If we aren't tied down by rigid labels and affiliations, our intellectual and conversational horizons expand.

I talk to a lot of people that champion this ideal of tolerance. I'll do you one better - don't pigeonhole ourselves. Whether it's about tech brands, religious beliefs, political affiliations, or sports legends, the labels we permanently affix to ourselves color our perspectives beyond reason. The path to nuanced understanding might just be to shed these labels and appreciate each debate with an unbiased mind.