On Labels
Bear with me-- one thing about me is that when I write about things, I find what I mean to say as I go along. So this will likely be incomplete and rough around the edges, but I did want to try to get some of my thoughts down, if only so I can understand them more fully.
I have often heard people express the sentiment that labels are unnecessary. That labels do more harm than good. That labels actually create problems because they keep us all from realizing that we're all part of one race, ~the human race (oh, that chestnut).
I very much disagree. Labels, like practically anything, can do harm or good. But it depends how they're used. If they're used by people, knowingly or unknowingly, to box people in and limit them, then of course they're bad. When people use any tool to perpetuate oppression, it's bad.
I've mostly heard the anti-labels diatribe come up in the context of race, usually paired with the persistent white wail of "why can't we all be colorblind?" The point being that if we didn't acknowledge race, and just pretended that everyone was the same, racism would be solved. I actually had a formerly good (white) friend break off a friendship with me because I dared to suggest to her that "colorblindness" is just well-meaning racism in disguise. You can't be anti-racist by pretending a large part of someone's identity doesn't exist. That you don't see it. That we're all the same, with the same cultural experiences and experiences with privilege. That's just nonsense, and not rooted in reality. And it's something only white people have the privilege of doing, frankly.
How does that connect to labels? Well-- it's just that the accurate labeling of race does not cause the racial strife our society faces, as many claim it does. It's the people who will use those labels to create stereotypes and box POC into them. And it's not always people you can immediately identify as cross-burning assholes, either. Look no further than our popular entertainment and see the plethora of Asian math geniuses, or "spicy" Latinas, or Blacks who are mostly cast as slaves or prostitutes (*cough cough GoT tv adaptation cough*).
Very recently, a friend of mine, J (who thankfully did not respond in the petulant, self-centered manner of the former friend), brought up an anti-labeling sentiment when it comes to sexual orientation. I felt a bit more qualified to speak to that, since the LGBT community is one that I'm actually a part of.
The context was a survey. She wondered why "what's your sexual orientation?" was a question on the survey, and suggested that while she is heterosexual, the question wasn't necessary because most people have a fluid sexuality (please correct me if I'm wrong in my summation). We had a polite back and forth wherein I explained why I am a-ok with self-labeling when it comes to orientation. It was one of the better discussions I've had on the topic, truly.
The heart of the matter, as ever, is that labels, when wielded by an oppressive group, tend to be used in an oppressive manner. J has her negative feelings in regards to labels in part because she has a relative who is gay, and she gets understandably upset when the person is introduced as "Hey, this is [name], she's gay." As though "gay" were the most important descriptor. It's tokenizing language, pure and simple.
I totally understand the frustration of being tokenized, but that's not quite the same thing as positing that labels are useless and only used to hurt and limit, albeit mostly unintentionally. Those two things, to me, are related because they are both rooted in privilege, but they're not the same thing.
If you've gotten this far, you probably already know that straight privilege is the default in our society, and it goes largely unexamined. It is therefore no large surprise to me that, in my experience, those who claim that labels are not helpful in when it comes to sexual orientation tend to be largely straight, much like those who claim colorblindness is a good idea are largely white. (J did not confirm whether this was the case for her relative, but it's my thesis nonetheless.)
Before I go on, I want to make it clear that here, I'm talking about self-labeling when I talk about the merits of labels. Absolutely, there are those who feel most comfortable with saying "hey, I'm on the spectrum, but it's fluid, and I'd rather not label myself." That makes total sense to me, whether we're talking about gender identity or sexual orientation. (There are also people for whom "gender fluid" or a simple "queer," which can carry the connotation of fluidity, are the actual labels they self-apply when asked.)
I am also not talking about people who feel the need to force others into tidy little boxes, because basically anytime someone tries to define someone else's gender identity or sexuality in a way that denies the agency of self-determination, it's bad. (She says from experience: I have had plenty of people define me as straight because I'm married to a dude, as though that has any bearing whatsoever on my orientation. It's erasing and ignoring part of my identity, and it's infuriating when it happens.)
Here's why labels can be good things: they can help to smash stereotypes. Once someone self-labels and claims an identity, they become a point of contact. For me, as a bisexual individual, it was very important to me, personally, to identify as bi on that survey because I believe it is important to be visible. Like other groups on the LGBT spectrum, the term "bisexual" comes with its own host of stereotypes, most of them negative. So when I say clearly "I am bisexual," there are going to be people out there who have their lightbulb moment and realize that bisexuals are just regular people, too-- not a mismash of slutty/slut-shaming, attention-seeking, "just a phase" stereotypes. It is personally important for me to self-label, in this way.
I also believe I have actually helped to shape the views of several people near to me in regards to LGBT issues just by being visible, by being more than just a faceless stereotype or an Other. When I am visible, I create a rift in what can often become an "us / them" paradigm. Because I'm Christina. They know me. As problematic as it is that some people have to personally know an LGBT individual before they can accept our essential equality, the reality is that that's how it works for some folks, and my self-labeling can, in my own particular life, help. [Note: I know that my ability to be out does not mean everyone can be, nor am I suggesting that everybody should come out, damn the consequences.]
There are other ways that self-labeling can be a revelation in ways that I've not personally experienced. It can certainly be an act of defiance against a society that says we should all fit in neat little monochrome boxes. "Not gay as in 'happy,' but Queer as in 'fuck you,'" for instance. It can be a way to make a loud statement about pride and self-determination in the face of a country where large swaths of the population insist on defining you as broken, amoral, or simply less than.
More than that, labels can create community. They create safer spaces for groups that lack the privilege and historic dominance. They make it easier for people to find each other, to realize that they're not alone, and to band together to enact real change. On an individual level, labels can bring people together and enact deep healing. Picture a closeted kid who finds a group he can finally be himself around when he attends his first Pride. Labels, when used positively, make this far more easy to accomplish.
And I'm certainly not suggesting that LGBT folk are a monolith or that we all have the same feelings on things (as I'm sure responses to this post will attest). But I think that it would have been far harder to gain traction in the fight for marriage equality if millions of individuals did not self-identify, band together, and demand some goddamn civil rights.
So the next time you see someone claim that labels are bad and divide us, remind them that no, it's not that. It's people who use labels to divide that are bad. Labels, when voluntarily self-applied, can be wonderful things.
I have often heard people express the sentiment that labels are unnecessary. That labels do more harm than good. That labels actually create problems because they keep us all from realizing that we're all part of one race, ~the human race (oh, that chestnut).
I very much disagree. Labels, like practically anything, can do harm or good. But it depends how they're used. If they're used by people, knowingly or unknowingly, to box people in and limit them, then of course they're bad. When people use any tool to perpetuate oppression, it's bad.
I've mostly heard the anti-labels diatribe come up in the context of race, usually paired with the persistent white wail of "why can't we all be colorblind?" The point being that if we didn't acknowledge race, and just pretended that everyone was the same, racism would be solved. I actually had a formerly good (white) friend break off a friendship with me because I dared to suggest to her that "colorblindness" is just well-meaning racism in disguise. You can't be anti-racist by pretending a large part of someone's identity doesn't exist. That you don't see it. That we're all the same, with the same cultural experiences and experiences with privilege. That's just nonsense, and not rooted in reality. And it's something only white people have the privilege of doing, frankly.
How does that connect to labels? Well-- it's just that the accurate labeling of race does not cause the racial strife our society faces, as many claim it does. It's the people who will use those labels to create stereotypes and box POC into them. And it's not always people you can immediately identify as cross-burning assholes, either. Look no further than our popular entertainment and see the plethora of Asian math geniuses, or "spicy" Latinas, or Blacks who are mostly cast as slaves or prostitutes (*cough cough GoT tv adaptation cough*).
Very recently, a friend of mine, J (who thankfully did not respond in the petulant, self-centered manner of the former friend), brought up an anti-labeling sentiment when it comes to sexual orientation. I felt a bit more qualified to speak to that, since the LGBT community is one that I'm actually a part of.
The context was a survey. She wondered why "what's your sexual orientation?" was a question on the survey, and suggested that while she is heterosexual, the question wasn't necessary because most people have a fluid sexuality (please correct me if I'm wrong in my summation). We had a polite back and forth wherein I explained why I am a-ok with self-labeling when it comes to orientation. It was one of the better discussions I've had on the topic, truly.
The heart of the matter, as ever, is that labels, when wielded by an oppressive group, tend to be used in an oppressive manner. J has her negative feelings in regards to labels in part because she has a relative who is gay, and she gets understandably upset when the person is introduced as "Hey, this is [name], she's gay." As though "gay" were the most important descriptor. It's tokenizing language, pure and simple.
I totally understand the frustration of being tokenized, but that's not quite the same thing as positing that labels are useless and only used to hurt and limit, albeit mostly unintentionally. Those two things, to me, are related because they are both rooted in privilege, but they're not the same thing.
If you've gotten this far, you probably already know that straight privilege is the default in our society, and it goes largely unexamined. It is therefore no large surprise to me that, in my experience, those who claim that labels are not helpful in when it comes to sexual orientation tend to be largely straight, much like those who claim colorblindness is a good idea are largely white. (J did not confirm whether this was the case for her relative, but it's my thesis nonetheless.)
Before I go on, I want to make it clear that here, I'm talking about self-labeling when I talk about the merits of labels. Absolutely, there are those who feel most comfortable with saying "hey, I'm on the spectrum, but it's fluid, and I'd rather not label myself." That makes total sense to me, whether we're talking about gender identity or sexual orientation. (There are also people for whom "gender fluid" or a simple "queer," which can carry the connotation of fluidity, are the actual labels they self-apply when asked.)
I am also not talking about people who feel the need to force others into tidy little boxes, because basically anytime someone tries to define someone else's gender identity or sexuality in a way that denies the agency of self-determination, it's bad. (She says from experience: I have had plenty of people define me as straight because I'm married to a dude, as though that has any bearing whatsoever on my orientation. It's erasing and ignoring part of my identity, and it's infuriating when it happens.)
Here's why labels can be good things: they can help to smash stereotypes. Once someone self-labels and claims an identity, they become a point of contact. For me, as a bisexual individual, it was very important to me, personally, to identify as bi on that survey because I believe it is important to be visible. Like other groups on the LGBT spectrum, the term "bisexual" comes with its own host of stereotypes, most of them negative. So when I say clearly "I am bisexual," there are going to be people out there who have their lightbulb moment and realize that bisexuals are just regular people, too-- not a mismash of slutty/slut-shaming, attention-seeking, "just a phase" stereotypes. It is personally important for me to self-label, in this way.
I also believe I have actually helped to shape the views of several people near to me in regards to LGBT issues just by being visible, by being more than just a faceless stereotype or an Other. When I am visible, I create a rift in what can often become an "us / them" paradigm. Because I'm Christina. They know me. As problematic as it is that some people have to personally know an LGBT individual before they can accept our essential equality, the reality is that that's how it works for some folks, and my self-labeling can, in my own particular life, help. [Note: I know that my ability to be out does not mean everyone can be, nor am I suggesting that everybody should come out, damn the consequences.]
There are other ways that self-labeling can be a revelation in ways that I've not personally experienced. It can certainly be an act of defiance against a society that says we should all fit in neat little monochrome boxes. "Not gay as in 'happy,' but Queer as in 'fuck you,'" for instance. It can be a way to make a loud statement about pride and self-determination in the face of a country where large swaths of the population insist on defining you as broken, amoral, or simply less than.
More than that, labels can create community. They create safer spaces for groups that lack the privilege and historic dominance. They make it easier for people to find each other, to realize that they're not alone, and to band together to enact real change. On an individual level, labels can bring people together and enact deep healing. Picture a closeted kid who finds a group he can finally be himself around when he attends his first Pride. Labels, when used positively, make this far more easy to accomplish.
And I'm certainly not suggesting that LGBT folk are a monolith or that we all have the same feelings on things (as I'm sure responses to this post will attest). But I think that it would have been far harder to gain traction in the fight for marriage equality if millions of individuals did not self-identify, band together, and demand some goddamn civil rights.
So the next time you see someone claim that labels are bad and divide us, remind them that no, it's not that. It's people who use labels to divide that are bad. Labels, when voluntarily self-applied, can be wonderful things.