Translator: Morgane Quilfen Reviewer: Ellen Maloney
Now, I'm sure all of us have experienced that moment,
when you're walking along in a shopping center,
immersed in your own thoughts,
and as you walk past a shop front window,
you fleetingly see someone who looks just like you.
They have the same clothes, the same hairstyle,
and when you look at them,
they even have the same eyes, staring straight back at you.
They are shockingly familiar, because they are you!
But even when you realize that you're simply looking at a reflection,
there's a part of you that doesn't entirely accept this.
This is because our reflections are only a mirror image
of our true selves.
Our true selves are captured in a photograph.
That's how we actually look.
And yet, as research has shown,
most of us prefer looking at our mirror image.
We like it, simply because it is more familiar to us.
And that is important.
We are more comfortable with things that are more familiar to us,
even though they may not be accurate, or real.
So, this is just part of a more complex issue.
The way that we see ourselves, our image, rarely correlates with how others see us.
More specifically, how we see ourselves in our minds,
our personal identities,
are only ever partially captured in our external identities,
how the rest of the world sees us.
And this is important,
because identity confers power, access, and credibility.
On a practical level, in the United States,
identity theft deprives the US economy of 41 billion dollars annually.
Extroverted personalities, such as the Kardashians,
whether you love them or hate them,
have managed to turn their identities into brands.
So, when we vote for a politician,
or when we buy a celebrity-endorsed product,
we are endorsing their identity.
Why?
Because we identify with them and place our trust in them.
So, it's no surprise then, that we spend so much of our time
thinking about who we are and who we would like to be.
And yet, remarkably,
few of us have an accurate conception of our own identities.
We might think that we are being perceived in a certain way,
or believe that our actions are shaping the views of others,
but we cannot really measure these effects.
And this importantly suggests
that our identities are not entirely within our control.
Another way of thinking about this,
is the number of automatic associations we make when we meet someone.
For example, you are now looking at me,
and, in an instant, you've noted the color of my skin, my accent,
and hopefully the fabulous shoes that I'm wearing --
which, for the record, is golden brown, British-Australian with a hint of Punjabi,
and Kurt Geiger.
So, these attributes contribute
to a multitude of associations within our minds,
and they are derived from our personal experiences.
Hence why politics, advertising, and social media
are such powerful drivers of our thinking.
Even more surprising is that we rarely actively engage these ideas.
Instead, they simply express themselves as superficial "likes" or dislikes.
In light of the momentous events of 2016,
I've begun to think more deeply about what do others see when they look at me?
And what are the core determinants of my identity?
Now, when I ask my friends what defines me,
they often say that it's my interminable sarcasm,
or my insatiable love of shoes, or my penchant for chocolate.
But, what shapes the way a lot of people look at me?
Concerns as braid, that runs down the middle of my back.
My hair is long, simply because I've never cut it,
and the reason for that is also straightforward,
it's because I'm a Sikh.
For those of you not familiar with Sikhism,
it's one of the world youngest major religions,
with its origins in Northern Punjab in the 15th century, a province of India,
it is a religion that focuses on a single God
that is timeless, shapeless, and invisible.
Therefore, the central practices of the religion are to build discipline,
to cultivate honesty, and to engender a sense of service to one's community.
It may surprise you to know that it is the fifth largest religion in the world.
One key practice of the faith is not to cut your hair.
There are three main reasons for this.
First, Sikhs believe that people were created as they were meant to be,
and therefore by not cutting our hair, we are respecting our bodies.
Second, Sikhs want to be identified;
we want to be known as people who will help you in situations,
and our turbans and long hair instantly distinguish us from those around us.
And third, Sikhs believe that by not cutting your hair --
similar to not drinking alcohol, which is another Sikh practice --
we are cultivating discipline, and living a more principled way of life.
Ironically, I was born bald!
But, I quickly caught up, and before long, had a full head of hair.
Now, until I started school,
I never realized that this length of hair was at all unusual.
At school, I quickly became known as "the girl with the long hair,"
a catchy moniker, but not quite in the same league as a dragon tattoo,
which could have lead to a book deal or a Hollywood movie.
Another byproduct of my distinctiveness were the questions.
They started when I was six and have never really stopped since.
"How long is your hair?"
"How long does it take to wash?"
"Have you ever cut it?"
And my all time favorite, "Have you ever sat on it?"
Now, since I can see you're all wondering, I'm going to give you some answers.
It takes 20 minutes to wash, but sometimes hours to dry;
I've never, ever cut it;
and of course, I've sat on it!
In fact, hardly a day goes by where I don't sit on my hair,
causing my head to jolt back violently as I scream, "Follicles!"
(Laughter)
And the responses to my hair have been fascinating.
Most of my friends think that it's beautiful,
and many of the teachers at my school were incredibly supportive.
This is important,
because I attented a non-denominational uniting church school,
and yet I was elected as head prefect, conducted assemblies,
and did Bible readings.
And not one person, throughout my entire schooling,
ever questionned the validity of me performing these duties.
Some people, however, have found my hair confronting.
One incident that is etched firmly into my memory
happened when I was at a school camp, age ten.
As I was walking along a bush trail, a girl behind me grabbed my braid,
and as I turned arount to look at her, straight in the eyes,
she just looked back and said, "Eww!
Freak!"
I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach
and lost something in the process.
It came as a shock to be called a freak,
but what made it painful was that I didn't know this girl,
in fact, I'd hardly ever spoken to her.
All she knew about me was that I had long hair.
Over my life, there have been many experiences like this,
which have made me want to chop it all off.
As a young girl, I would often stare into the mirror
and fantasize about having a short, sophisticated bob,
or wavy, shoulder-length tresses.
I would dream about just being a girl rather than the girl with long hair.
And one day, I got my opportunity.
I was standing in my bathroom, brushing my hair,
my mom walked in, and just looked at me, and said,
"You don't have to keep it, you know.
You've now reached an age where you can make your own decisions,
and if you want to cut it, you can!"
As a teenager, I had begun to realize that my religion, my identity,
and the physical expression of these ideas, were my choices.
And in an instant, I could now change my defining characteristic,
I could cut my hair.
But despite this, I just couldn't bring myself to cut it,
because I want to be known as a person who will help you,
if you're ever in need;
I want to be seen as a person who is on a journey
to building discipline and becoming more honest.
With adolescence came the additional peer pressure of drinking alcohol.
Now, I'm Australian, and Australians love to drink!
In fact, in Australia, drinking is more popular than swimming,
and probably more fundamental to Australian culture.
Hence the common Aussie phrase
of having a drink whilst getting in the drink.
But, my parents, ever concerned, primed me with a host of excuses,
concerned that I wouldn't have the confidence to give an honest answer.
"Just tell them that you're driving.
Or tell them that you've already had enough to drink."
But, by this stage, I was beyond pretending.
So, as I finished my school, I began to tell people,
"I don't drink, and I don't cut my hair."
But also demanded to be treated as an equal.
Equality is a word that is used in so many different settings
that it hardly carries any useful meaning,
and yet it still represents a vitally important concept.
Equality is about allowing individuals
the opportunities to make the most of their lives and their talents.
It's about recognizing that each individual
is complex and capable of the entire breadth of human emotion.
I want my quirks and my intricacies to be understood and fully appreciated.
I want to be seen as a nuanced young woman
whose experiences and potential speak to far more
than the color of my skin or the length of my hair.
In his "1984" novel, George Orwell warns of a world
where every concept that can ever be needed
will be expressed with exactly one word,
and all his subsidiary meanings rubbed out and forgotten.
Every year, fewer and fewer words
and the range of consciousness always a little smaller.
Sure, I'm a Sikh,
and I absolutely have very long hair, but it's not my defining characteristic.
Because I'm also sassy, love fashion,
and would gladly live in enormous, Louis Vuitton heels.
So, how did long hair change my life?
Well, as I walk around Oxford, I see people with tattoos,
crazy-colored hair, and punk-rock outfits,
and that's just the Oxford professors!
But seriously, I see people
who want to express their identities and their sexualities,
and be understood and appreciated for that.
My long hair taught me that for some,
the struggle is borne out in public displays of who they are,
whilst for others, it's a private journey.
Both are equally valid and warrant respect.
Each of us is coming to terms with our own distinctiveness.
And in doing this, we have to love who we are,
but when someone else shows us who they are,
we must embrace and accept them for who they are.
We are all human.
We just need to be more humane.
Thank you.
(Applause)