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Of Selfhood and Sandwiches

We’re all human sandwiches

Layers of identity ingredients

Wrapped in bread of skin

Searching for other sandwiches

With enough common ingredients

To call them friends


Before I’m decried as a cannibal for the human sandwiches bit, let me explain.


It started with a desire to find a metaphorical frame to understand the Us. I was seeing humans as having many layers of identity, but I didn’t want to ascribe a hierarchy, sequence, or progression to the layers. Enter the intuitive, everyday item we can all grasp: the sandwich.


Marty might be a turkey club—his meaty career as a computer tech distinct from his cheesy love of romcoms, all stacked with a lettuce layer of fitness. Then there’s Rheba, the egg salad sandwich, where her work, family, and fun blended together with a pervasive sauce of religion.


Objectively, every sandwich is a valid, functioning sandwich, even if subjectively, there are some we like more than others (or outright cannot bring ourselves to engage with.) But it’s easier to acknowledge taste when it’s literal, and they’re just sandwiches. Just because I don’t want to eat a meatball marinara doesn’t mean I think it’s less of a lunch for someone.


We’re all looking for fellow sandwiches that complement our own flavor profile. If someone is smothered in sports-sauce, that’s not my taste, though a little smear of it isn’t going to turn me off if it’s balanced with other ingredients. However, our traumas breed allergies—the peanut butter of Conservative Christianity may be a favorite for some, but for me, it triggers hives. And others? They'd go into anaphylactic shock.


However, one could argue that there is a more objective judgement about sandwiches, such as which ones are healthier for you to incorporate into your life. Not all sandwiches/humans are in your dietary needs or preferences (still not a cannibal) and that’s okay. And, although it makes me uncomfortable to recognize it, some are made of ingredients that are inherently unhealthy for most people. Toxic people do exist. Some are more neutral—and yeah, maybe a little bland--but they’re not going to give you heart disease.


How our sandwiches came to be with their current ingredients is a whole other topic we could explore. Some were mandatorily loaded on by our parents or culture; others we selected, wittingly or otherwise, through our decisions and interests. And while we all make choices, I do think it’s important to recognize that not all ingredients are available to all individuals. Some unhealthy people have been limited in their options by their environment. I’m still wrestling with what that means for how I engage with them, because I still believe the limitations in their past does not entitle them to cause me harm.


We could debate what counts as a sandwich—wraps, tacos, hot dogs—but I like to err on the side of inclusivity, so if you’re approaching personhood, welcome to the sandwich party. After all, some of us are already pretty strange.





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