Identity is a multi-faceted and deeply personal construct, one that we’ve been slowly unraveling in this series. Yet, as we delve deeper, it becomes evident that when identity feels fragile, people often seek anchors outside themselves. This leads us to a phenomenon that has served as both a mirror and a mask throughout human history: materialism.
The use of material possessions to define oneself is nothing new. Across eras and cultures, objects have symbolized status, power, and identity. A crown for a king, an heirloom passed through generations, or even the latest tech gadget—all carry narratives of who we are or who we wish to be. But as society has evolved, so too has the intensity of materialism. Today, with the advent of social media and an ever-connected global community, the stakes are higher, the illusions grander, and the consequences more complex.
At its core, materialism is often a response to internal voids. When someone is unsure of who they are or feels their identity has been stripped away—by trauma, societal pressures, or personal failures—they often turn to what they can control: appearances. The new car, designer handbag, or luxury vacation becomes more than a possession; it becomes a statement. “Look at me; I am successful, I am valuable, I am enough.” But beneath the polished façade lies the same question they’re desperate to silence: “Who am I really?”
For many men, societal expectations create a narrative that ties worth and identity directly to material success. The phrase “chase the bag”—a shorthand for prioritizing financial gain above all else—has become a mantra for an entire generation. It promises that money is the ultimate solution: secure the bag, and everything else—happiness, relationships, respect—will fall into place. Yet, this mindset, though rooted in ambition, often masks deeper, unspoken pain.
For some, this relentless pursuit stems from childhood wounds or societal pressures. Perhaps they were once the boy mocked for having less, or the man dismissed for not meeting society’s definition of success. The response? To turn identity into a brand centered on possessions. The car they drive, the house they buy, the lifestyle they flaunt—it all becomes a carefully constructed mask. Suddenly, they’re no longer just individuals with dreams and struggles; they’re “the guy with the BMW” or “the one who always has the latest gadgets.”
Social media has amplified this struggle. Platforms like Instagram and TikTok, designed to share moments and creativity, have morphed into curated stages where material success is not just admired but expected. The rise of influencers, with their perfectly styled homes, luxury wardrobes, and jet-set lifestyles, has created an aspirational culture that thrives on comparison. Each post becomes a subtle reminder of what you don’t have, who you’re not, and what you must acquire to keep up.
Consider the phenomenon of “unboxing” videos, where influencers open and showcase luxury items for millions of viewers. These videos, while seemingly harmless, fuel a cycle of material desire. They equate possessions with happiness and worth, planting the idea that to have more is to be more. For someone struggling with identity, these messages can be devastating. Social media doesn’t just reflect the materialism of our time; it accelerates it, making it harder than ever to separate who we are from what we own.
This “keeping up with the Kardashians” mentality—driven by instant gratification, the availability of credit, and the obsession with celebrity—has led to a society that equates worth with wealth. As Nicky Cullen aptly points out, “We’ve lost all touch with reality and that which creates a happy life. Simply put, we’ve lost the plot.” This relentless pursuit of external validation through material means has disconnected us from the simple yet profound joys of life—genuine relationships, self-awareness, and purpose.
The fragility of identity built on materialism is further compounded by its misalignment with our core selves. Each of us exists on three levels:
- The Public “You” – the person we project to the world.
- The Private “You” – the self we share with family and close friends.
- The Deep Inner “Self” – the part of us that no one else sees, where our fears, dreams, and desires reside.
When these layers are disconnected—when the Public “You” is driven by appearances while the Deep Inner “Self” remains unfulfilled—life becomes a constant tug-of-war. Materialism widens this gap, creating a dissonance between who we are and who we present ourselves to be.
So, what happens when we begin to peel back the layers of materialism? The journey isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. Stripping away the external symbols forces us to confront the deeper questions: Who am I without my possessions? What drives me beyond financial success? What values define me at my core?
Authentic identity isn’t built on possessions but on purpose. It’s found in meaningful relationships, personal growth, and contributions to something larger than oneself. For men entrenched in the “chase the bag” mentality, this might mean stepping back and asking: Am I pursuing money to fill a void, or because it aligns with my greater goals and values? Am I seeking validation from others, or am I building a life that feels fulfilling to me?
Moving beyond materialism also involves fostering genuine connections. Relationships built on shared values, not status, have the power to ground us. They remind us that we’re more than what we own and that our worth isn’t defined by fleeting trends or possessions.
As I continue this series, I’ll delve into congruency—the alignment of the Public, Private, and Inner “You.” How do we live in harmony with ourselves? How do we ensure that what we project to the world aligns with our deeper truths? And how do we cultivate an identity that’s not just authentic but also resilient? Join in next week as I explore the transformative power of congruency, where integrity meets identity, and where truth refuses to be fractioned.