To understand this, we can look at how identity is typically verified. In daily life, identity is often reduced to data: name, place of birth, status, or occupation. As if with just that data, a person can be fully “understood.”
Something similar happens in biology. To recognize an organism, we need various indicators—from morphology and anatomy to physiology and even molecular data. It’s a complex process, and interestingly, taxonomy is often considered one of the “grayest” areas in biology.
But does the organism being identified actually care about its complex identity?
Probably not.
Unless, of course, the organism is the one identifying itself—like Homo sapiens. 👀
This is where the difference lies. In science, identity is the result of observation. But in my opinion, identity is also a mental experience. Does a butterfly or any other organism have an implicit assumption about itself? Maybe yes, maybe no. We can’t truly know what it feels like to be a butterfly.
This thought reminds me of a verse from a book by Sapardi Djoko Damono and Rintik Sedu:
“siapa gerangan yang sudi mendengarkan kita bernyanyi, kecuali nyanyian itu sendiri” — Sapardi Djoko Damono & Rintik Sedu, Masih Ingatkah Kau Jalan Pulang (Who would deign to listen to us sing, except for the song itself?)
Of course, this line can be interpreted in many ways. But to me, the “song” represents the mental experience: the emotions, memories, meanings, and assumptions that can only be fully understood by the individual themselves.
Singing is the effort to express that experience outward, and listening is the effort of others to understand that song.
Based on my interpretation, no one can truly understand someone’s mental experience except for the experience itself.
Because when someone receives our expression, what they understand is not our actual experience, but their own interpretation of it—a mental model they build based on their own perceptions.
If so, then understanding between individuals is not a transfer of meaning, but a construction of meaning.
But the question remains: Can someone truly understand us, or as I suspect, do they only understand the version of us that exists in their own imagination?
The inability to truly “hear” someone else’s song often leads to one thing: labeling. Labels are the easiest way to end the complexity of interpretation.
I’m reminded of another part of the same book, about how a sign is destined to be an interpretation of itself. And when it tires of interpreting, it no longer cares about the interpretations made about it.
Aren’t we the same? A sign that never finishes interpreting itself?
If we ourselves are signs that never finish interpreting who we are, how can we demand others to have the “correct” interpretation of us?
Perhaps identity was never meant to be fully understood. It is like silent music, with a frequency that resonates perfectly only in our own ears. Others might only catch it as distorted sound, which they then name with specific labels.
Those labels remain “noise” to our subjective experience. However, like any signal interference, we might absorb some of that noise, reinterpret it, and eventually, it becomes part of the composition we hear as “me.”
So, as for “who am I?"—is there no certain answer?