Belonging, Belief, and the Price of Independence

A heightened sense of belonging and identity often flourishes among the less educated and the underachieved. When a person lacks the anchor of achievement or self-realization, the pull of collective identity becomes irresistible. For those who have reached a measure of education and accomplishment, the need for validation through group belonging should, in theory, be less pronounced, as personal success elevates one’s self-concept. Yet life is rarely that simple. Even among the educated, I have witnessed an ironic return to zealous identities. Some second- and third-generation Muslims in the West, despite being highly educated, embrace religious fervor with intensity, as if to reclaim dignity and belonging where they feel insecure. Among Jews in Western societies, I have observed a strikingly different pattern. Many maintain a deep sense of cultural and religious identity without surrendering reason, productivity, or liberal values. They illustrate, by example, how heritage and modernity can coexist: celebrating holidays, upholding tradition, and fostering community, all while thriving intellectually, professionally, and socially. Their model demonstrates that identity need not constrain achievement, but can instead coexist with personal freedom and excellence.

My own life offers a different trajectory. I have encountered prejudice and even subtle racism in the societies where I have lived. But I chose not to meet it with bitterness or grievance. Instead, I learned to take it with humor. Over time, I came to see that much of what is often labeled racism is closer to prejudice - assumptions based on ignorance rather than genuine hostility. Once people come to know you, many of these prejudices evaporate. This realization has reinforced my gratitude for living in free and liberal societies, where opportunities are distributed on the basis of effort and merit. Compared to my country of origin, Pakistan, the difference is stark. There, class distinctions are deeply entrenched, and the color of one’s skin can dictate far more than it should. By contrast, in the society where I now live, I find room for aspiration, freedom, and the chance to define myself on my own terms.

Yet this independence has its price. When I compare myself with peers of similar background, I often feel a certain loneliness. My refusal to conform to inherited identities and unquestioned traditions has marked me as an outsider. At times, I have even been labeled a heretic, ostracized for questioning what others regard as sacred. But I have borne this social toll with resolve, preferring intellectual integrity over easy acceptance. Unlike many, I have never felt the urge to dissolve this loneliness by seeking refuge in group belonging. I can only smile, sometimes even laugh, at the sight of people blindly following outdated ideologies, relics of a seventh-century Arabian desert, reenacted as though they were eternal truths. Coming from a Shia background, I am especially struck by the degree to which superstition, myth, and legend dominate the theology and rituals of my community. I recall with a mix of irony and sadness watching educated people, even those with advanced degrees, behave like automatons in religious processions, surrendering reason to emotion and conformity.

This distance from collective identity is not born of arrogance but of conviction. I have come to see that freedom lies not in belonging to a group but in standing firmly in one’s own beliefs, even at the cost of solitude. To reject superstition, to confront prejudice with humor rather than bitterness, and to anchor one’s worth in personal achievement rather than collective myths - these are the choices that have shaped my path. At the same time, observing communities like Western Jews teaches that identity need not be abandoned to live fully in a liberal society. One can celebrate heritage, participate meaningfully in culture, and still thrive intellectually, economically, and socially. Their example shows that reason, freedom, and tradition are not mutually exclusive, but can reinforce one another, offering a vision of how pride in ancestry and rational engagement with the world can coexist. They provide a model, not only of cultural resilience but of how a minority can integrate, contribute, and excel without sacrificing principles or productivity.

In embracing this perspective, I find both affirmation and clarity. My journey may be solitary, but it is free. It is a path of integrity, humor, and insight, guided by reason, fortified by gratitude, and enriched by the example of those who demonstrate that identity, intellect, and liberal values can coexist in harmony.