I grew up in Mississippi, on a pretty big farm with my family. The family farm was made up of my grandparents, my dad, and my 2 uncles. My Grandmother cooked for us all every day so needless to say she had a big garden and a bunch of farm animals, chickens, rabbits, geese, ducks, peacocks, guineas. I want to tell you about our favorite duck. His name was funny duck. We called him that because he was abandoned as an egg. He was taken in by one of our more compassionate momma chickens, as ‘her’ own. We tended this to be a surrogate relationship and to transition him back into his family when he was born.
When he was born, we must have been busy, because he spent several days with the momma chicken, so much so that he began to live like her. He found himself scratching in the dirt for bugs just like momma chicken. He totally missed his genetics as a duck.
Enter in a bunch of elementary aged kids, me and my 5 cousins who called the farm home and all the animals our own. Once we realized Mr. Duck was confused, we decided to help him out. We caught him and went down to the creek to throw him in with the other ducks. When we did, it was a war. The other ducks completely attacked him. They didn’t realize that he was one of them; Funny Duck didn’t even realize he was one of them. He just thought he was the only rooster who could swim.
His understanding of who he was, a very lucky rooster (because he could swim); affected everything he did, and everywhere he went. How he ate, where he slept, who he hung out with, even his girlfriend.
His flawed self identity affected who he was as shown in his actions. He was a very ineffective Duck and a very frustrated rooster.
He was experiencing difficulties between his form, what he was and his function, what he was supposed to do.