Labels can be a wonderful thing. They are good for organization and making sure everything goes where it is supposed to. That is when we are referring to labeling intimate objects with a label maker, of course. What labels are not good for is classifying people. We, as opposed to that old comic book collection that you've been meaning to organize, are people, and therefore do NOT need to fit into neat little boxes. This, my dear friends, is a concept society sadly has a hard time grasping.
A few months ago, I went into my schools' health center to get a quick physical that was required for my study abroad forms. It had been a rough year so I had been seeing a school-provided counselor to de-stress and work on bettering myself. I had thought what we discussed in our sessions would remain private. Apparently not. At the end of the form that my doctor was filling out for my international school was a section that said something along the lines of "Other information and issues we should be aware of in case of a medical emergency."
In that section, my doctor put two simple words:
Anorexia. Depression.
He nonchalantly handed the paper back to me without a second glance and, frankly, I was appalled. I had yet to even put a label to myself in my counseling sessions, and here is this stranger telling me and my future school who I am. To be honest, it hurt. I felt confined. Limited.
Worthless.
It was as if those two words were everything that made me, me. Everything that made "Lindsey", Lindsey. Nothing more. I felt as though I had the words "Anorexic" and "Depressed" tattooed right across my forehead for everyone in the world to see. And when others saw those two words, they would not see anymore of who I was. They would never know that I am also a chocoholic, an incense enthusiast, an avid reader, or a sun worshiper. They would never get to see my true self because they already decided who I was and put me in that neat little box forever.
It took me a while to become okay with these stark labels that were bestowed on me, but once I did I soon made those words my own. When you start applying those labels to yourself, it starts to take some of the power away from them. I would become more open about these "issues". These things that I battled with everyday but was working on. And, as I did so, the negative connotation that clung to those words started to fade. After all, they were only words.
Such as these are only words: Alcoholic. Poor. Abused. Fag. Fat. Bulimic. Stupid. Ugly. Homeless. Orphan. Immigrant. Bipolar. Retarded. (The list goes on)
I've learned that we need to stop making our labels a taboo. Once we start throwing them out into the open and addressing them we can finally begin to move past them. The only person putting you in a box is you. And you are so much more than what you have been labeled.
So Public Service Announcement: THAT LABEL DOES NOT DEFINE YOU.
You are so much more. You are whatever you want to be. You are everything.
We are not something to be tucked away and organized into neat little boxes. So no matter what label someone else has given you, always know that you are so much more.
