As I set my coffee down next to the couch, she, roughly 1,500 miles away on her couch, exhaled and pronounced:
“I just feel like people take their Colorado outdoorsy-ness to the next level here. I just don’t vibe with it.”
My friend – who I first met in North Carolina – initially moved to Colorado for graduate school, where she’s since started a business, found her life partner, and most importantly (to me), adopted a beautiful blue heeler who finally got to meet our blue heelers during our recent cross-country move. We’re a Bluey family here.
Do I love the places she’s talking about – Breckenridge, Frisno, Aspen? Absolutely.
Do I also love being outside and doing things like ultra-trail running? Yes.
Do I totally understand her frustration? 100%.
And that’s when a word grabbed me: identity.
Identity is how we signal who we are, through what we wear, believe, drink, or most currently, post about online. It all started with our AIM and Myspace profiles.
It’s part self-expression, part social shorthand. And sometimes, it’s the way we ask:
“Do I belong here?”
Identity is kind of like your morning coffee order – personal, ritualized, and a little performative. It signals something. And in today’s world, we’re all stuck in a loop of trying to order the perfect thing just to feel like we belong at a table, even if we’re not entirely sure who is at that table, where it’s located, and what’s on the actual agenda.
There’s been a lot of talk about a belonging crisis – a phrase Pete Buttigieg once used when reflecting on division in America:
“There are a lot of lines being drawn about who gets to be American, and it speaks to a bigger crisis of belonging in this country.”
But what if what we’re feeling isn’t just a crisis of belonging. Instead, what if it’s more so an identity overload?
That phrase stuck with me all day.
Ironically, it came back around when I passed a café and thought:
“Do coffee shops have energy drinks or would I be shunned for asking…”
Because whether you’re a hand-pour devotee or an unapologetic PSL enthusiast, coffee culture is a microcosm of modern identity: packed with signals, rituals, preferences, and unspoken rules.
(Full disclosure: I’m writing this blog while sipping an energy drink. Yes, I said it. And yes, I feel mildly judged – by myself.)
We’re All Searching for Belonging—But at What Cost?
Let me be clear – identity itself isn’t the problem. More often than not, our search for identity is really a search for belonging in disguise. It’s our way of seeking others for connection, while simultaneously looking for validation.
We pick up the cues of the spaces and groups around us – how we dress, what we drink, the music we play, the pop culture references we use – not just to express who we are, but to find people who signal back:
“You’re one of us.” or “OMGOSH I LOVE YOUR LABUBU… look at MINE.” I will not be discussing the labubu reference at this time.
Psychologists Jay Van Bavel and Dominic Packer put it this way:
“We don’t always choose which groups we belong to – but we often choose which ones we embrace as identity.”
That line stuck with me.
Because it highlights something subtle but huge: sometimes we don’t feel true belonging in a group – but we still adopt the identity because it’s familiar, socially rewarding, or just visible enough to keep us from feeling alone.
In their book The Power of Us, Van Bavel and Packer explore how identity – especially social identity – shapes not just our behavior, but our perception of reality. They show how group belonging can motivate people to cooperate, persevere, and even act against their own self-interest for the good of the group.
But they also show how group identity, when pushed too far, can lead to tribalism, polarization, and self-simplification. When we align too tightly with a single group signal – especially one that’s rewarded culturally or algorithmically – we start to flatten ourselves in service of that identity.
Which brings me back to this idea:
We haven’t allowed our identities to be as complex as we are – because we’ve built a culture that runs on stimulation. The louder, faster, and more recognizable the identity, the more rewarded it becomes.
We stay buzzed on clarity. Addicted to legibility.
So we often pick one version of ourselves and perform it. Not because it’s the full story, but because it reads clearly to others—and clarity feels safer than contradiction.
Identity Isn’t Belonging – It’s a Signal Hoping for a Response
There’s a reason identity feels powerful – it is.
Social Identity Theory explains how we naturally form in-groups and out-groups based on shared traits. It’s a survival instinct. We look for the “us” that makes us feel safe, seen, and significant.
But here’s where things get tricky: The faster and more fragmented our lives become, the more we shrink identity to feel anchored.
We condense ourselves into bios.
We signal allegiance with hoodies, hashtags, and headlines.
We simplify just to be legible.
Identity is the signal. Belonging is the response. When identity becomes the shortcut to belonging, we start flattening ourselves to fit.
We haven’t allowed our identities to be as complex as we are. Instead, we sharpen the edges to stand out – or blur them to blend in.
And we forget that true belonging lives in nuance, not uniformity.
Why This Feels So Heavy Now: Bandwidth Meets Belonging
Let’s zoom out. Human brains didn’t evolve for this much input—this many identities, this many signals.
Dunbar’s Number suggests we’re wired to manage ~150 meaningful relationships. Anything beyond that overwhelms the cognitive load. It’s not a character flaw – it’s biology.
But modern life? Doesn’t care.
We now observe thousands of people, all performing identity in real-time.
We scroll through coffee orders, political affiliations, therapy memes, aesthetic alignments – each one whispering: this is who I am… do I belong with you?
And whether we mean to or not, we absorb it.
We compare, adapt, and signal back.
Just like caffeine, identity signals keep us buzzing. We stay alert, on edge, and overstimulated—but not necessarily more connected.
And suddenly identity becomes less about who we are, and more about who we need to appear to be—for each space, platform, and audience.
This isn’t just a belonging crisis. This is a bandwidth crisis. It’s a human-limits-meet-digital-age kind of crisis.
Even Geoffrey Cohen, a leading researcher on belonging, notes how identity gets overused when psychological safety is unstable. We cling to labels not just for expression – but for protection.
The Weaponization of Belonging
It’s not breaking news that we live in a polarized world.
But polarization isn’t always about politics—it can show up in the smallest, most ridiculous places.
Post a video of your morning brew, and someone might comment:
“That’s not real coffee ☕🤮. You can’t call a mushroom blend coffee. You must be American. LOL”
And yes, I’ve witness a new age coffee mushroom blend being promoted – and suddenly, it’s a moral divide.
And that’s the point. We’re not just disagreeing – we’re defending. Identity has become both armor and ammo.
When belonging becomes performative, identity becomes a performance.
We curate ourselves into tribes.
We gatekeep nuance.
We reward outrage.
I call this “belonging as performance” – where looking aligned matters more than being in relationship.
Cohen’s research warns of this too: even well-meaning communities can become exclusionary when they lean too hard on identity instead of shared values.
Solidarity becomes boundary-policing.
Nuance becomes betrayal.
And we end up more isolated than ever.
Van Bavel and Packer describe it sharply:
“In the age of the internet, it’s easier than ever for people to form their own cult-like cocoons.”
Algorithms reward alignment. Outrage gets attention. And once you’re inside one of those cocoons, it becomes harder to question the narrative—because your belonging depends on staying loyal to the script.
That’s the danger of performance-based belonging: it’s not about connection anymore. It’s about proving you’re still worthy of staying inside the circle.
We crave the “you’re one of us” moment—but when it becomes addictive, it stops healing and starts harming.
So What Do We Do With All This?
Do we cancel identity? Retreat to the woods? Burn our mushroom coffee and start over?
Not quite.
Here’s the thing: Belonging isn’t the villain. Neither is identity. They’re both part of what it means to be human.
Belonging is a drive. Identity is a tool. But identity was never meant to carry all the weight.
If we want to reclaim the power of belonging, we don’t need better identities. We need roomier ones.
We need identities that stretch, evolve, and contradict themselves. We need spaces that say: “You don’t have to earn your way in by performing. You’re allowed to be real here.”
The truth is: most of us are walking paradoxes.
You can be a yoga-loving mushroom-coffee drinker and a NASCAR fan. You can be neurodivergent, skeptical, spiritual, outdoorsy—and not know where you fit.
And that’s not a crisis. That’s human complexity.
Closing Thought: What Happens If We Let Belonging Be More Open?
So let’s go back to that original moment – the coffee shop, the awkward small talk, the pressure to “match the vibe.”
Maybe the real tension wasn’t about coffee or hobbies or altitude.
Maybe it was about identity overload – the exhausting need to signal who we are, just to be seen at all.
But what if that wasn’t necessary?
What if belonging isn’t about perfect alignment, but instead about real presence?
What if you could walk into a space and not worry whether you match the aesthetic, but instead whether the space has room for you?
Here’s a reframe:
Maybe we don’t need a stronger sense of identity. Maybe we need a softer sense of self.
Try This:
- Ask yourself: Where do I feel most free – not just liked or admired, but free?
- Observe your spaces: Do they allow for contradiction – or reward performance?
- Reflect on your influence: If you lead a space (team, group, class), ask:“Do people need to perform identity to belong here?”
- Experiment: Share something nuanced about yourself.
Invite someone in who doesn’t “fit.”
Watch what happens when you drop the pressure to signal and just… connect.
Belonging doesn’t have to be a costume we wear. It can be a quiet confidence that says:
“I’m allowed to be real here.”
And maybe – just maybe – that’s enough.