I suppose it’s time.  After many years of living with my secret, I am coming out with it.  I know my friends and family will be shocked, and I’m sure my parents will be disappointed but I cannot hide it any longer.  I just hope that those who truly love me will continue to accept me for who I am and not be too quick to judge, though I know that will not be the case for everyone.  So here it is:  I am Identity Fluid.

I wasn’t always sure growing up what was ‘wrong’ with me.  It wasn’t until I saw in the news the likes of Elizabeth Warren, the potential vice presidential candidate who identifies herself as Native American when she isn’t really, or the likes of Rachel Dolezal, the Spokane NAACP chapter director who identifies herself as Black when she isn’t really, that it hit me.  It doesn’t matter who I am; all that matters is how I identify myself.  President Obama has decreed that this is reason enough to let me use any bathroom I choose.  And it turns out that for me, my self-identity changes depending on my mood or circumstances.  Thus, I am Identity Fluid.  It’s a thing.

Take the example of ‘Nano,’ a Norwegian woman who identifies herself as a cat.

A what?

A cat.

There you go judging again.

Nano claims she is simply the result of a genetic defect:  she is a cat born into a woman’s body.  She therefore has no choice but to live out her life as a cat, wearing cat ears, a tail, and fluffy pink paws with which she grooms herself in order to express her true self.  I know what you’re all thinking:  1) Does she use a litterbox?  and b) who cleans it?  Shame on you.  “It’s obvious that I’m a cat when I start purring and meowing,” says Nano.  “And walking around on four legs and stuff like that.”  Obviously.  Sounds like a cat to me.  And who am I to say different without being bigoted and discriminatory?  Of course, when she goes out in public to say…get her glands squeezed or collect her welfare check, she walks upright and uses human words, like a woman.  So sometimes she is a cat and sometimes she is a woman.  She is Identity Fluid.  As am I.  Which I have found in my life to be rather convenient.

Usually I identify myself as a white, middle-aged male with a slight paunch, but I refuse to be limited by such a narrow, stereotypical classification.  For example, since the U.S. government offers scholarships to Native Americans, I pull a Warren on my kids’ college applications and check the Native American box.  I was totally born on American soil.  Boom!  Free school.  Or if it is decided that the U.S. government owes reparations to descendants of slaves, I will be the first in line to be like Ms. Dolezal and claim my ancestral slave status.   The Romans were always enslaving Germanics like me.  A-cha-ching!  Ever waited in line at the men’s room during intermission at a hockey game?  Me too.  That’s because men outnumber women by roughly 22.4-to-one at hockey games.  That’s why as soon as that buzzer sounds I go from chick magnet to chick.  No lines.  In and out.  In fact, I’m thinking I’ve got a good shot at Glamour’s ‘Woman of the Year’ award.  I’m so brave.

International travel is a breeze since I identify myself as a local no matter where I go.  I make pretty good money but you would never know it at tax time.  That’s because I identify myself as an unemployed homeless pauper with 13 dependents in college and a huge mortgage.  (Please help God bless.)  I am also waiting to get my checks from the San Diego Padres as I occasionally identify as one of their star outfielders.  It’s a genetic defect.  I’m a star outfielder born into a couch potato’s body.  I’m on the pretend disabled list though, so I don’t actually have to do anything.

And I get all religious holidays off work because I identify as Christian, Muslim, and Jewish.  (And Atheist so I don’t feel obligated to participate in them.)  I figure between the smoke breaks (I identify as a smoker, btw), prayers, and holiday observances, I’ll spend about two hours a day in the office on average.  Try to fire me.  You would have an instant lawsuit on your hands, you hateful extremists.   I don’t even need a lawyer.  Why?  You guessed it:  I identify as a member of the state bar.

True, I’ve been insulted for my courage to just be.  I’ve been called a ‘hockey puck’ and ‘as sharp as a bowling ball’ among other things.  But I don’t mind too much because I like sports.  In fact, I identify with sports as much as anything.  That’s why when I have to pee at Target I go in the Sporting Goods section.  I realize it’s inconvenient for a majority of patrons, but why can’t I just be left alone to be who I am?   Why do I have to kowtow to the draconian social elite muckity-mucks who are mired in reality?

While a majority of my identities may not be true for you, you can’t argue with me because if you challenge them I’ll just identify as having your position and agree with you.  Your point is mute.  I am thus all things to all people.  Hey…Maybe I should run for president.  On second thought, scratch that; I am the president.  At least I identify as one.  The way I see it, Obama has no choice but to let me use his bathroom.