Identity is relative. Far from an expression of oneself, it is largely a performance for others, a pantomime in the limelight of another’s gaze. We have no self-concept except the one reflected in the imagined eyes of others. We can’t be someone without someone to be someone for.
I was actually thinking more of Sartre, but now that you've mentioned these two guys (who I'd never hitherto heard of), I'll conduct further inquiries!
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Others in Mind: Social Origins of Self-Consciousness by P. Rochat
End of conversation
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