Individuality and Independence vs. Conformity and Dependence

Listening to my daughter's friends sharing while sitting on the floor of the balcony of my father's now vacant apartment, I can't help but notice as I look in the eyes of each of the young woman sharing that I feel as though I am looking into my own eyes. My eyes of another time, another place yet so familiar in the moment, so close to me it is difficult to distinguish where one begins and where one ends. The tearing inside one's soul of young adulthood pulling in opposite directions: who is to take care of whom? Who is the adult and who knows better? Aren't parents supposed to be there for you and support you in your every struggle and fill your every need? Comfort you and guide you onto the path of least sorrow, of least pain? Yet as eyes open up to the fallible, imperfect human being showing through the cracks of the armour of the oh so strong and infallible parent whose pain suddenly seems so great, the weakness blatant, the powerlessness no longer able to stay quiet and unnoticed...
Faced with the mirror of oneself in a teenage body the illusion wanes quickly as the veil of illusions thins....who is strong? Who is weak? Who is more powerful, who has more wisdom? How can someone who seems so powerless over their own lives be in a position to tell another what is best? What is wise? The resistance to see the truth; blinding one's ability to see.

I always find discussions with young adult very stimulating, this is a time where the pulse of life is so vibrant, and where endless possibilities as well as questions emerge, and express themselves! One of my compatriots on the balcony floor is a vivacious and empowered Muslim young lady I have a lot of respect for. She is one that forges courageously beyond her own limits as well as that of her family and culture comfort zones, blazing new trails for herself and others who might follow. I was suddenly alerted to the fact that within her culture there aren't many possibilities or opening for a woman to create for herself as an individual away from family, as she is to stay safely within her family of origin until the time she becomes someone's wife. Forever and always under the protective wing of either her father and mother or a husband. She shares that within a marriage a woman can create her own independence within its limits. I know that to be true as her mother is an example of a Muslim woman whose strength of character and independence I have witnessed particularly. She chooses to wear the Jilaabah with pride of her individuality and of her culture although her husband does not care either way. She travels often for long periods of time on her own visiting her family and friends through out several Arab countries freely, independently while her husband stays home with the kids who are now young adults. As I quickly rummage through my thinking on this matter I realize that within my own culture even though called progressive, where women are apparently independent and free to choose for themselves their future and the conditions of their lives, the opening and encouraging of young women as individuals away from being someone's wife or mother is limited. Sure we can now choose careers including those that use to be only open to men, we can choose to have kids later, or none, and there is somewhat more choices of sexuality between heterosexual, lesbian, or bisexual. Yet even if we are able to open our minds to the reality of these life choices and experiences we surely are not that progressive a society to be without encountering a huge amount of prejudice when choosing anything away from the mold of wife and family. Perhaps it is the same for boys and men, with more pressure in the direction to choose a career or job which will make them into adequate providers for a wife and family. Even though they may be encouraged to play the field beforehand with bachelorhood smiled upon for them more than for girls, and even if they are allowed and expected to focus on their careers as individuals, it is in my experience nevertheless, always with an underhanded expectation that somewhere down the line they will be providing for a family.

All this stirring sends me in the morning to the mausoleum where my mother's urn sits next to her husband's. They sit in a niche behind a bronze plate engraved with his family name above and their surnames below, at the bottom an Irish clover and a ribbon of: forever together. My mother is of French origin, born in Algeria, my step father, Irish. They were together for a blissful 9 years before he died of a heart attack at the young age of 56. That is mere one eighth of my mother's 72 yrs of life. After a long cry sprawled out on the grass like a little girl, I look up at the plaque and wonder why my mother would choose to be remembered only as Jacqueline Fagan spouse of Cyril Fagan when she had lived and experienced such a whole, varied and full life as a woman on three different continents outside of that particular singular identity??

So we are all pulled, encouraged and conditioned towards an experience of family and unity yet somehow in our experience as human beings becoming part of a greater whole seems to be at the expense of one's individuality and uniqueness. It seems to be a question of either or, black or white; either free and independent; or trapped and dependent. A unique and distinct individual or an assimilated person who conforms to a group.

To be stronger within our own individuality and share that within a greater whole is in truth a richer experience for all to be had, where each one's uniqueness helps makes the other's stand out and shine more brightly. A more vibrant and whole experience of life where the possibilities grow exponentially compared to an experience where each person hides their uniqueness for fear of being ostracized, and banished. Individuality fades at the price of enmeshment in order to belong. Yet somehow we seem to create as human beings just that, as we carry with us the fear that our individual distinctiveness and uniqueness as a means of separation, and loneliness. In my experience we mostly allow ourselves those experiences of being all that we are where we are safely away from those we fear losing.

No matter how much I try to create space for my daughter to be an individual, unique and different from me, I am aware of our fears of losing each other when we allow our independence of each other to show. I often wonder if only away from one another can we truly and really be ourselves. That may be based on my own experience with my family growing up, where for a long time it seemed that only my friends understood the real me. Yet within those groups I later realized I had also conformed as a way to belong and for fear of rejection. The same with my sisters, co-workers, in laws, neighbours etc... I am aware of my tendency to fear reconnecting with old friends who knew me as someone who is very different than who I allow myself to be today; which is a much freer individual. Why do I perpetually want to keep secret the greatness and expansiveness of who I can be and am? The fear of living a lonely and secluded life, not having had the experience of being free to be more of my individual self, more whole within a greater whole of individuals and an experience of independence within relationships? I gather with the experience of being dependent that pushes us to conform we develop a real thirst for what we are missing: our individuality, independence and freedom be our truer selves, and when we find it we have the choice to share it with those people we once were dependent on ie: hiding it from, or not.