Identifying Identity

Re- Introducing the Already Established Ever-Changing Me

Over the past few weeks/months, I’ve been introducing myself over and over again: to new clients, new coworkers, and new networking partners. Naturally, I got very comfortable with my script—my elevator pitch, my snapshot of who I am, what I do, and what makes me different.

That pitch has always centered around my career as a therapist. But the truth is, the reason I am a therapist—and the way I show up as one—stems from who I am. My identities, communities, and cultures don’t just influence my work; they are embedded in it.

One of my favorite professors once told me, “Julie, you don’t do therapy. You are being a therapist.” That stuck with me. He saw something I didn’t yet have language for: that I bring my whole self into the room, not to center or bring attention to myself, but to be present with the client. As a therapist, I don’t want to focus on the doing. I want to focus on the being.

In a recent Instagram post, I shared how we’re always in a dance between acceptance and change. Carl Rogers once said, “The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.” I interpret that a bit differently. To me, it means: just when I think I’ve figured myself out, I change again—and I have to get to know the new version of me.

So naturally, as I’ve been in this cycle of introductions, I’ve found myself wondering: Who am I? What do I bring to the table? Big questions, right? Meanwhile, I’m often asking my clients those very same questions—and not just about their careers. I push them to think deeper. And in turn, I’ve started to reflect differently, too. If I were in their shoes, how would I answer?

Anyone who’s done an intake session with me knows I leave a big chunk of time for the cultural section. If I were filling that out for myself, I’d probably write a whole book. Usually, when people ask about my background, I simply say, “I’m Brazilian-American.” But the truth is, there’s so much more—so many cultures and identities that have shaped who I am. Influences from people of other nationalities feel woven into me, like patches on a tote bag.

And if I were to describe that tote bag, it would look like this:

• Brazilian canvas embedded with colorful threads 

• Embroidered with American cotton stitching

• Stained with pasta sauce from Northern Italy

• Everything but the Bagel seasoning

• A Matryoshka doll tucked inside

• A Dutch bike key and a Rains umbrella

• Canadian maple toffee and sea salt chocolate from Tofino in another

• My favorite pages from Harry Potter and an Italian moleskin journal scribbled with Brazilian idioms

• An iPod full of Bad Bunny, reggaeton, funk, and bossa nova

• Extra bags of German tea, an emergency bottle of hot sauce, flaky sea salt and French butter

• Colombians coffee bean and a worn dogeared 20 year old copy of Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations 

• Hawaiian tea and Trader Joe's chili oil

• Spanish wine and few broken cigarettes 

• Numerous shreds of paper seeming so of trash but priceless pieces to my future scrapbook 

These are the material manifestations of the people, places, and things that have shaped me. But what you wouldn’t see are the ideas, the philosophies, values, and lessons—that gave me permission to open that bag in the first place and fill it with what matters most.

People often ask me, “Do you feel more Brazilian or more American?” And honestly, I never know how to answer that. It’s not a question with a simple yes or no—or even one I think they really want a complicated answer to. Because what would my answer even mean to them?

If I say I’m American, someone might point out my skin color or ask, “But where are you really from?” If I say I’m Brazilian, I get follow-ups like, “Do you have a passport?” or “Wait, but you don’t look Brazilian—are you sure you’re not Mexican?” (Yes, that has happened—more than once.) I used to get so many comments when people used to see the food my Brazilian family prepared at American thanksgiving - "Why is there rice and beans?" "Where's the mast potatoes and gravy " "That's not what your'e supposed to have " It’s like people want a clean category, a single label they can understand. But living between two cultures doesn’t work like that. It’s not either/or. It’s both, and neither, and something entirely in between. No one seems satisfied with that in-between space—the dialectic of being two things at once. But that’s where I live. That’s where a lot of us live.

The truth is, I don’t feel like I come from just one origin. I like my bag. It’s a mix. And I choose what I carry and what holds value to me. As I said in my post, I am both, and I am also so much more. That’s how I choose to see others, too: as the sum of many parts, beyond passports, certifications, or bureaucratic boxes.

We are more than the material. We are what we carry, what we’ve collected, and who we continue to become.