however much identity bedevils us, we cannot do without it. You’ll recall the old joke. A man goes to see a psychiatrist. He says, “Doctor, my brother’s crazy—he thinks he’s a chicken.” The psychiatrist says, “Well, why don’t you bring him in?” And the fellow replies, “Oh, I would, but we need him out there laying the eggs.” Social identities may be founded in error, but they give us contours, comity, values, a sense of purpose and meaning: we need those eggs.
