Which Dead Celebrity Do You Most Identify With?

Which dead celebrity do you most identify with?

I asked this question knowing full well that I do not have an answer.

I do not follow celebrity culture. I do not track who is dating who. I do not model my life after actors, musicians, or influencers. Most of the time I could not tell you who just won an award for something.

So when I first wrote the question, I thought, I have no idea.

Then I asked a friend.

They said Anthony Bourdain.

That caught me off guard.

I asked why.

They said, you have that same mix. Curiosity. Restlessness. You care about people most of the world ignores. You are comfortable at the table with almost anyone. But there is also a heaviness under it all.

That last part lingered.

Anthony Bourdain traveled the world eating food, telling stories, sitting at plastic tables in back alleys and in Michelin-starred restaurants. He was not polished in a corporate way. He was rough around the edges. Honest. Sometimes brutally.

He did not pretend the world was prettier than it is.

He also did not pretend he had conquered his demons.

There is something uncomfortable about identifying with someone who died the way he did.

It forces you to look at the whole picture.

Not just the charm.

Not just the wit.

Not just the passport full of stamps.

But the struggle.

When we identify with a public figure, we are rarely saying, I want their fame.

We are usually saying, I see something in them that feels familiar.

Sometimes it is ambition.

Sometimes it is rebellion.

Sometimes it is the outsider energy.

Sometimes it is the sadness.

Celebrity identity is projection.

We take fragments of a person we have never met and stitch them onto our own unfinished story.

That can be harmless. Even helpful.

It can give language to something we feel but cannot quite name.

But it can also be revealing.

If you say you identify with someone bold and fearless, what does that say about what you value?

If you say you identify with someone tragic, what does that say about the story you are telling yourself?

And if you cannot think of anyone at all, what does that mean?

Maybe it means you are not looking outward for identity.

Maybe it means you are building your own.

When my friend said Anthony Bourdain, I did not feel flattered.

I felt reflective.

Do I romanticize the restless artist archetype?

Do I secretly admire the tortured genius narrative?

Do I lean into the weight instead of learning how to set it down?

It is easy to glamorize depth. It is harder to live with it responsibly.

There is also another layer here.

We tend to identify with people who gave voice to something we struggle to articulate.

Bourdain talked about addiction. About loneliness. About feeling out of place even when you are the center of attention.

That honesty creates resonance.

But the goal is not to mirror someone else’s life.

The goal is to understand what in their life feels familiar and why.

If you say you identify with a comedian, maybe humor is your armor.

If you say you identify with a civil rights leader, maybe justice burns in you.

If you say you identify with a musician who never quite fit in, maybe you have always felt slightly off tempo with the world.

The question is not really about celebrities.

It is about identity.

Who do you see yourself in?

And more importantly, are you choosing that story consciously?

You do not have to care about celebrity to answer this question.

You can choose a writer.

An athlete.

A historical figure.

Someone local who never made headlines.

Or you can reject the premise entirely and say, I do not identify with any of them.

That might be the most grounded answer of all.

For me, hearing Anthony Bourdain made me think about balance.

Curiosity is good.

Depth is good.

Honesty is good.

But romanticizing struggle is not.

Admiring someone’s courage does not mean inheriting their fate.

The better question hiding underneath this one might be:

What part of that person are you actually claiming?

And is it something you want to grow, or something you need to heal?

Answer it honestly.

Not for social media.

Not for applause.

Just for you.

If you’d like one thought and one question delivered each morning, I send them out quietly at sunrise.

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