Can I call myself a minimalist?

What is a minimalist anyway?

I feel like the minimalism movement is closely linked, visually at least, with a single recognisable aesthetic of neutral tones, clean lines, limited print and colour, devoid of non-functional decoration. The aesthetic is quite spare and white seems very important. The modern 2020 minimalist seems to take pride in living with bare essentials and owning quite a small quantity of any one item with little to no excess contingency.

I reckon anyone would look at my wardrobe or my home, and while I don’t think it is cluttered, it’s certainly not quiet. I love colour, print, and I do own more than one of some things, a few knick-knacks, and several things I only use infrequently, which, to the ‘minimalist’, might be construed as missing the point? I can’t imagine myself in a white-walled home with very little art on the walls, wearing crisp white cotton or a basic tee and impeccably tailored jeans with no makeup. I can’t imagine myself not wanting to buy and own jewellery. I can’t imagine giving up my full-suspension mountain bike because I only use it about 5 times a year.

Despite this disconnect, I still want to call myself a minimalist, purely on the basis that I feel like I’m minimising my ownership of physical objects, and I’m changing my decision-making process when I do buy physical objects. I’m striving not to own for the sake of owning, striving to re-engineer my thinking and to ignore the cultural practices of consumerism that have taught me to love the buzz of buying new and to use the ownership of things as an indication of my success. I am genuinely enjoying the process of minimising and of refining my choices to match closely with my personal values, tastes and objectives.

So, can I call myself a minimalist?

Just through writing this post, I’m realising that I am making the same judgments about my own journey as I fear others might make about it too. Like I’m not worthy of the title minimalist until I’ve reached the goals of white walls, clean wooden floors, a wardrobe that could fit into a carry-on case and one bar of soap that cleans my kitchen, laundry and hair.

I am reminded that this has to be a personal journey that shouldn’t be judged, neither by yourself nor anyone else. Your goals or ideals do not need to match the visual chatter and distraction of aspirational and inspirational imagery.

The trick is to hear and identify ourselves amidst all that noise and so we can define goals and follow paths we see for ourselves. Forget the tribe and the formula. There is no objective, and even if there was, your personal circumstances and objectives might change a year from now - that’s OK too. This is what refinement is to me - paying attention to myself, honouring my unique set of needs, circumstances, tastes and desires and stripping away or ignoring anything that doesn’t speak to that. This process seems, quite naturally, to result in minimising what I do do and do own, to be able to focus on just a few really important things but I’m reminding myself that that doesn’t have to lead to owning a set quantity of anything and minimalism can be a fluid definition that can just mean what it means to me. Like love.

Maybe I am a minimalist or maybe I shouldn’t bother with the epithet. Maybe the naming of this thing is just the easy way out to try and define myself, to try and see where this is going when instead, I should just enjoy the ride.