Identity in the Eye of the Beholder
By Madeleine Hoffman | Culture | April 19th, 2026
Cover Illustration: February 25, 2023. Daniel Guerra / Unsplash
Who decides who we are and where we belong? Soft news reporter Madeleine Hoffman explores the concept of identity at the Polish Film Festival 2025, revealing further insights into Polish language, societal expectation and traditions
From Oct. 31 to Nov. 2, 2025 Amsterdam hosted its fourth annual Polish Film Festival, organized together with Polish Culture NL and De Balie. Centered on themes of identity and amplifying women’s voices in film, the festival invited audiences not only to watch stories unfold on screen, but also to question the frameworks through which identity itself is understood.
Placed against Poland’s historical and political backdrop, these discussions gained a sharper edge. Identity here was not treated as something fixed or purely personal, but as something negotiated, shaped by history, language, social roles and, crucially, the gaze of others.
Although I did not manage to see every screening or panel, the ones I did experience left lasting impressions that I have thought about daily for the past few months. They pushed me to think about identity not only as something we claim for ourselves, but as something that is continuously assessed, constrained or validated by society.
The festival raised a central question that echoed across films, panels and conversations: who are you in the eye of the beholder and how does society allow you to be? And a more personal question: who am I now and who am I even “allowed” to become, given my position in society?
My first experience from the Polish Film Festival was the panel discussion with directors Olga Chajdas and Urszula Antoniak, following the viewing of Nina, Chajdas’ film, which was about a woman’s journey of self-discovery and love as she navigates the complexities of marriage, desire and the pursuit of motherhood.
The panel and its discussions posit the construct of identity to be not only about what the person in question believes about themselves, but who is assessing their identity. Nationality, typically treated as a fixed and non-negotiable marker of identity, quickly revealed its underlying complexity. Antoniak, who grew up in the Netherlands to Polish roots and does not hold a Polish passport, spoke briefly about her experience of being perceived differently depending on context. To Dutch audiences, she is Polish; to Polish audiences, she is Dutch. At one point, the moderator even joked that her Wikipedia page labels her as Dutch. When Chajdas suggested that nationality might be defined by the language you think in, attempting to “simplify” things. Antoniak replied that for her, that language is English.
So, what is the answer then? This same dilemma is likely deeply relatable for many students in Amsterdam who were raised in multiple countries, spoke several languages while growing up and therefore struggle to clearly define how they identify themselves.
What does national identity mean when even the person in question cannot fully locate themselves within it? And how important is national identity when it can exist primarily in the eyes of others?
This idea can be universalized well beyond nationality, reaching into almost every domain of identity. Think about yourself and your standing as a student. You might consider yourself a good student, while your friends may see you as a subpar one. It all depends on how a person defines what makes a “good” student, which can be attributed to various indicators. Is it the amount of time spent studying? The grades you receive? Or your overall attitude toward learning? There is no straightforward answer.
Poland offers a particularly revealing case study for these questions. National identity there is deeply shaped by history, Catholicism, conservatism and long-standing social norms. One of the most powerful examples brought up by Chajdas is the concept of Matka Polka, which means the “Polish Mother.” This historical ideal frames motherhood as the ultimate expression of womanhood and national duty. Sacrifice, moral purity and devotion to family and homeland are central to this image, which portrays women as heroic bearers of culture and continuity.
Historically, Matka Polka demanded that women raise patriotic children, maintain households alone while the men fought for the nation and subordinate personal needs to collective survival. The image is closely associated with the Virgin Mary: humble, obedient and willing to sacrifice her son for a higher cause.
During the Communist era, this myth evolved into the “double burden,” where women were expected to work full-time while still carrying full responsibility for domestic labor and caregiving. Today, its legacy persists in debates over reproductive rights, unpaid labor and gendered expectations that remain deeply entrenched in Polish society.
In this context, identity is shaped not only by personal experience but also by societal expectations. Womanhood is influenced not only by who one is, but by the roles and responsibilities one is often expected to assume. In a country where abortion is largely restricted, motherhood is frequently framed as a significant responsibility and personal choice may be constrained by legal and cultural norms, the question persists: how does society allow individuals to define themselves and at what cost?
This tension extends beyond gender into sexual identity. Although Poland formally protects against discrimination based on sexual orientation, it has repeatedly ranked among the lowest in the EU in terms of respect for LGBTQ+ rights. Conservative values, closely tied to national and religious identity, often frame LGBTQ+ existence as a foreign “ideology” threatening social cohesion. This rhetoric intensified after 2013, supported by political actors and the Catholic Church, creating a hostile environment for queer identity development, especially outside of major cities.
The now-infamous “LGBT-free zones” crystallized this hostility. By 2020, roughly a third of Poland was covered by symbolic municipal declarations opposing “LGBT ideology.” While largely legal posturing, their social impact was profound. They sent a clear message about who belonged and who did not. Only after sustained legal challenges, EU funding threats and international pressure were these zones fully repealed in 2025.
Although the repeal signals progress at the institutional level, it leaves open the question of how political permission translates into social reality. When acceptance is imposed rather than embraced, identity remains precarious in everyday life.
The films showcased at the festival, particularly those by female directors, returned repeatedly to this struggle between personal identity and imposed roles. They asked what happens when we conflate who we are with what we are expected to be. One line from Fugue, a film about a woman who loses her memory and rebuilds an independent life after years apart from her family, stayed with me:
“Let’s go out tonight.”
“Why, because I’m your wife?”
The exchange seems simple, almost casual, yet it cuts to the core of the issue. Are we doing things because we desire them or because our roles demand them? Over time, obligation and authenticity blur. Identity risks becoming performance. How often do you observe this role performance in yourself?
This blurring is reinforced even at the level of language. In Polish, professional titles are grammatically gendered and the distinction between male and female forms of “director” subtly encodes hierarchy. The masculine term ‘dyrektor’ implies creative authority, embodying the visionary behind the film, whilst the feminine form ‘reżyser’ historically carries connotations closer to technical operation. Even today, women in leadership positions are often addressed using masculine titles preceded by “Pani,” reinforcing the idea that authority remains linguistically male.
Efforts to introduce gender-fair language have faced resistance rooted in history, tradition and the structural constraints of the language itself. Feminine job titles were discouraged during the Communist era, stigmatized as inferior and many remain awkward or semantically burdened today. In this context, language does not merely reflect social reality but also plays a role in shaping what is imaginable.
Across these discussions, films and histories, a pattern emerges. Identity is never formed in isolation. It is shaped by unwritten rules, by roles we inherit and by the boundaries society enforces — sometimes subtly, sometimes violently. If identity is always, at least partly, in the eye of the beholder, how much freedom do we truly have to define ourselves? When national, cultural or linguistic ideals limit our freedom, should we uphold them as they are, resist them, even in the instance of a worthy cause, or simply do nothing?
Perhaps the most honest conclusion is that identity remains unfinished. It is negotiated daily, between who we feel we are and who society allows us to be. But, perhaps the act of questioning the pre-defined definitions is in itself a form of resistance and a step in the right direction, for a welcoming world for all.
Madeleine Hoffman is a university student in Amsterdam. The views expressed here are not necessarily those of The Amsterdammer.
