When the Pottermore sorting hat quiz placed me in Slytherin, I was devastated. I'd been a Harry Potter fan from the age of five, and as I'd grown up, I strongly identified with the Ravenclaw house. Blue and gold (or silver, in some cases) were my colors, and intellect, wit, and creativity were the qualities I valued above all else. There was no way that years of calling myself a Ravenclaw were for naught.
When did I begin to embrace my inner Slytherin? Maybe around the time I was making my third Pottermore account to re-take the quiz to get sorted into Ravenclaw. Or perhaps when I did some more reading and realized while I was intellectual and creative, I valued hard work, my cunning personality and was (and still am) the type to do whatever it takes to get to the top. I am a smart person, but I consider resourcefulness and determination to show great strength of character. I'm far over the fact that I'm not a Ravenclaw, even proudly displaying my green and silver with lanyards, stickers, and pins.
For those of us familiar with the Harry Potter book and movie franchise, this type of behavior isn't so unusual. Many people around my age or younger are very fixated on their Hogwarts house, being a Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, or Ravenclaw as integral to their identity as their name or age.
This form of self identification isn't exclusive to Harry Potter fans either. Many people are just as militant about their Hunger Games districts, Disney princesses, Pokemon types, to name a few. Others are hung up on other attributes, like their horoscope or MBTI personality type.
This generation has a big preoccupation with what can be collectively described as "personality quizzes," clickbait, and Buzzfeed type tests meant as hobbies that can quickly eat up our time. A simple quiz to see which TV show character you are can lead to hours and weird corners of the internet where you are bound and determined to see which fruit or Hannah Montana song you are.
Many of us have spent at least some time considering which characters, houses, or districts we are, but what is the reason for this obsession? I, like many others, will tell you that I'm, say, Slytherin, INTJ, or Princess Belle more readily than I could tell you basic stats like blood type, phone number, or even major. These types of identifiers are frequently on people's social media bios, or even used as a way to introduce ourselves to someone else in person. This pattern of saying these interesting things about us is one that we are so hung up on. Why is that?
Our generation was raised in very innovative and progressive times. Technological, politcal and social structures have changed dramatically in the last few decades. However, with all these advancements, there's also been a tremendous amount of turmoil. War, financial crisis, and a surge in illness (mental and physical) in children and teens have greatly altered our quality of life. With all of these things going on around us, we've been raised with strong levels of anxiety, the need to be the smartest and the most talented, superseding our emotional well being. Our school work had to come first, our report cards, athletic ranking, and SAT scores became our primary identifiers. Even applying to colleges, we are our GPAs, testing scores, a number in the process of education and work. So much of who we are is tied to how we do in school from a young age; some teachers never even bother to learn our names.
Parents, coaches, even friends don't help: our parents are hung up on our grades; coaches and tutors care about placement and skill, even our friends see us in terms of labels like "popular" or "brain" or "jock." We are told, when we are very young, who we are in the form of standardized tests and activities. Our teachers and parents decide for us who we are, and by the time we're old enough to comprehend the numbers and labels, the thought that we are an "A student" or a "star athlete" is difficult to unlearn. We are defined by our intelligence, our skills, or the career path we're being pushed towards based on a second or third grade aptitude test.
However, these fandoms and personality tests give us a taste of our identity back. It gives us a chance to sit back and consider questions about ourselves that we never would have considered. Whether we're, say, a Gryffindor, or ENTP, or really know we belong in District 3, or are the definition of a Leo, it's a chance to identify ourselves in a way that we (sort of) decided on. Something we get a say in. We spend most of our lives being forced into labels that aren't us, the wave of standardized testing and cliques lapping up our identities before we even know what an identity is. Sure, this is another thing that can be chalked up to "the youth and their technology," but I've always found you can learn way more about a person by their Hogwarts house than I could from knowing how well they did on the ACT.
Our generation's lives are defined by the categories we're sorted into; class levels, employment, even the social circles we keep are typically defined by one activity or another. In a world so fixated on labels, it only makes sense that eventually, we'd find a way to define ourselves in a way that we approve of.
There is and always will be more to a person than their grades or sports stats. Discovering our individual identities is the most important thing we can do for ourselves. To some, it may look like we take the Hogwarts houses too seriously. But to many others, it gives us a point of reference for our inner selves. We see ourselves as a certain type or like a certain character, and it makes us feel more whole, less alone. It's a way of coping in a world where our identities mean nothing; we go out and create our own. We spend every day being told what we should be, and for once, we have the power to be who we want.
So, yes, I am proud to say I care too much about my Hogwarts house. This fixation, to me, is no different than the schools boards who care too much about one test score. It's an identity that we are proud to wear, so much so, that we proclaim it to the world. That is what makes it important, because after all, who knows us better than ourselves?
