What does it mean to have character?
In the midst of a period of personal introspection, I’ve slowly begun to concern myself with this theme, and the kinds of people with character, and those lacking.
Joan Didion defines character as “the willingness to accept responsibility for one’s own life” in an essay she wrote for Vogue in 1961, aptly titled ‘On Self-Respect.’ I’ve found this to be the most fully encompassing definition.
To have character doesn’t necessarily mean you’re making the morally ‘right’ choice every time, but it does require that you understand the consequences associated with your actions and accept them graciously for what they are when you, inevitably, turn to face them.
Character is built up over time. Our childhood experiences and the values instilled upon us in youth surely play a role in its development. But ultimately, no one wakes into existence with a sound understanding of what it means to be in control of your actions.
I can’t truly say I understood the value of character until my early twenties, when, burdened by the consequences of my decisions, I looked around for someone to blame and found only a mirror.
This realization, jarring, humbling, and deeply embarrassing all at once, served as the catalyst for a mindset shift that, in retrospect, dramatically changed the course of my life. Or at least my 20s. In accepting that I was responsible for my own life, I opened myself to a new world of possibility.
There are so many parts of life which are outside the bounds of our own control. Our jobs, homes, relationships, health, any facet of our existence which feels permanent can become undone in an instant. Your character, or lack thereof, determines what happens next. Will you rise to the occasion? Or will you wallow in self pity? Swim or sink? Stand or fall?
For a while, longer than I’d care to admit, I wallowed. It took quite a few knock downs to understand that it wasn’t anyone else’s responsibility to pick me up. I had to rise, stand on my own two feet, dust myself off, and try anew. And when I fell again, I had to do the same. Over and over and over again.
A harrowing reality to accept made easier by the people who love us, who cheer for us when we stand up, who offer support as we dust ourselves off, who walk with us arm in arm as we restart. Over and over and over again.
In the short term, I can’t argue the point that it’s far easier to lack character. To stay on the ground, to cry, to drown out the noise in distraction, to avoid staring the baggage we carry in the face.
But where does that leave us farther down the road? Struggling with the weight of our actions down a dusty path, left alone with a lifetime’s worth of consequences to own up to. We can only get so far with so much accumulated trauma. At some point, the load becomes too much to bear.
To have character is to know what you want, go after what you desire, and to tactfully own the loss when the chips don’t fall the way we planned. To have character is to turn the other cheek. To have character is to stare into the fire and keep walking because you know, ultimately, there’s something better on the other side.
Character can be taught, it can be developed, it can be honed over a lifetime so that when the end is near, we’ll have the wisdom to know we did the best we could for ourselves and our loved ones with the skills and tools we had.
Or it can be ignored. Abandoned to shrink within us until there’s nothing.
The choice, ultimately, is up to each one of us. In terms of having character or not, there’s no one to hold accountable except ourselves.
I know my decision, I made it long ago.
Who will you be?
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