An impostor has me thinking about identity
“Why would anyone want to be me?”
I posted on Facebook. The question was prompted by my discovery that someone was imitating me on social media. This was followed by people receiving emails from a fake me. Now I am getting emails from pretend companies.
“Attached is your invoice for the firearms you ordered.”
While I know these are online scam attempts, it does have me thinking about the concept of wanting to be someone else.
Esther Williams’ graceful forays through sun-blazed blue waters at one time made me fantasize about what it would be like to be a beautiful and elegant swimmer and actress. Maybe even a mermaid. But although I love sitting on the steps of a heated pool, the idea of going in and swimming laps, not so much. As I got older, the whole thing about having the lower half of my body be a fish quickly washed away any of the romance I associated with being a mermaid.
At one time, I came very close to wanting to be Scarlett O’hara, not the actress who portrayed her in “Gone With the Wind,” but the fictional character who was very much alive in my mind. “I’ll never go hungry again!” I would shout, shaking a fist full of dirt scooped from my backyard in Virginia. The fact that she wound up in the arms of the gorgeous Rhett Butler may have added to my appeal. Yet the real (fictional) love of her life married another and she never got over it. Too much sadness.
If ever one person could have enticed me to want to be someone else, it would have been Emily Dickinson. I’ve always felt an intrinsic tie to her because she died on my birthday, yet the most significant bond was that her poetry gave me permission to write short poems. Her brief yet powerful poems taught me the value of an economy of words in communication.
Although little-known as a poet during her life, she would later become regarded as one of the most important figures in American poetry. I love that for those who may not achieve artistic grace in their lifetime, there is hope for legacy.
My search for who I wanted to be ended 25 years ago when I was shopping for a wig during chemotherapy. After trying on long, sexy blond tresses, short sophisticated dark hair, curly masses of every color and shape, I selected a red pixie style that was exactly like my own.
I discovered that who I wanted to be was me.