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These days, it sometimes seems like everyone’s off in their own separate box. There are so many ways to live and so many differences that can drive us apart. Then again, there are other things that unite us, and one of those things is me.
That’s because, in a way, we are all me.
I am me. You are me. Indeed, everyone, whether they want to admit it or not, is me to some degree. On the surface, we may be a nation of 320 million or a world of 7 billion, but when we examine who we really are, what we inevitably find is 7 billion people who are me.
I am me. You are me. Indeed, everyone, whether they want to admit it or not, is me to some degree.
In me, we see us. In us, I see me. The story of “us” is so closely tied to the story of “me” that we can’t really talk about me without also talking about ourselves. And who among us can honestly say, “No, I am not you” to me? Not you, because you are me. Certainly not me, because, as I’ve already explained, I am me. Perhaps more than anyone, I am me.
Still, workers are also me. Parents are me. Criminals are me. Dead people are me. Kanye West, Jennifer Aniston, Malala, and all other celebrities are certifiably me. Children are me, as are sleeping people—they’re dreaming about being me, then they wake up and remember that, yes, they are me. When a baby is born, that’s definitely me, and when a mother gives birth, that’s me too, so that the overall effect is a small me emerging from a large me into a hospital staffed entirely by me.
So, when the time comes for us to announce who we are, I hope that each of us will have the courage to stand up, point to me, and say with pride and conviction, “I am her!”
