Identity Essay: What Is The Issue Of Identity?

Identity

Yaman hussaini Am I Yaman Hussayni or a Syrian? A question that has been stuck in the halls of my brain for the past week. As it seems to be the issue of identity is a complicated one. Do we choose our identity or it chooses us? And what is identity exactly? According to common idea in society identity is a very general word as it has several branches, cultural identity, personal identity, or even educational one are only some of them. To me, identity is the state of mind by which someone is directly recognized as character in public. It is the fragments of our life that will always remain with us, the permanently unchanging parts of us. Our looks, our beliefs, our culture, the places and things

Going through this, seeing the way other Syrians treated me and how they tortured me without any pity, looking at their faces which seemed to be as cold as ice, made me feel as if I was a stranger in my own country. As I stayed longer in captivity, the feeling of being a stranger grew inside me. I was being slowly detached from the place I’m in, from my country. And by time it wasn’t only the kidnappers that thought of me as a stranger, but I myself recognized that I was too. Everything seemed odd: the walls, the land, even the sound of language the people spoke was eccentric to me. Reading Ahmed Mohsen’s article all of those feelings directly arose to me. For Ahmed downtown Beirut seemed a strange

I was in the car with my friend and we were listening to Tiesto and we were living the part, singing along and clapping as if we were in some concert in Las Vegas. Truth was, we were in Ashrafeye and we were just passing time until we went home. While rocking around, a sudden knock on the window startled me and I looked out to see a woman holding a child. This woman looked young, maybe no more than 21 and she had a small girl in her hand. I opened the window and she started begging for money. I had seen many fair shares of beggars before but what struck me about this girl was that she was almost my age, and was also a Syrian. This girl…. Could be my sister. I suddenly thought how scared this girl must be, living in a terrible conditions away from her country, and on top of that being forced to beg for money and food. This girl is doing this mostly not for herself but for her baby child, for whom she is willing to die. The story of this girl is very similar to the poem of Mahmoud Darwish “A Gentle Rain in a Distant Autumn” in that poem the poet is describing how he left his country and he was then searching for a new reasons to die, in that poor girl case the reason to die for was her small child. The author also quoted “form the country that slaughtered me” and by this he is referring to his own country. This is very much similar to this girls story by which the war that happened in her country, my country, slaughtered her and made