"For someone who fights labels so hard, you sure do care about what they say."
My friend Jess is teasing me. We're snooping around a leather and oddities boutique she likes and I'm checking brands. I laugh but I still won't buy Harley Davidson chaps. They never wear right and I hate the way they pinch my rear without even knowing my name.
As we drive home, I start to think hard about how some labels actually are important. They actually mean something. They tell the world something. Hm. And you know what, baby? I sure do hate feeling like a hypocrite.
"It seemed so easy to just use a label. But guess what? In the end, the label was as one dimensional as the word of man. And what I am, what *all* of us are is as far from one dimensional as divinity can take us. Christ did not mean for us to condense ourselves into MySpace Q&As or even eHarmony personality profiles. I want fewer labels and more faith. I want to be defined by my actions and my beliefs. I want to be hard to compartmentalize. I want to play hard to get.”
I am talking with Jess again but on another day, at Thanksgiving dinner with a house full of friends who either love us or hate us. What a day in H-E-Double Lizards. That day, I was thankful for a great many things but I was most thankful that it finally ended.
We are talking about a mutual friend we've known for years and known about (as a public figure) for far longer. He's dating someone fifteen years his junior. Dating for the first time in thirteen years after being a bit of a renowned playa. I mean, boy had fangrrl websites dedicated to him. The one with the pic of a red Corvette and a little hand-drawn arrow pointing to the slightly dented hood was my favorite. They used to line up (word of mouth, you know *snort*) and he was just alpha enough to oblige. Until he woke up one day and realized he was bored. So he up and became a happy daddy.
Jess says, "They're gonna hit a rocky place when they start to sleep together." (Jess is kinda blunt, btw.) "Because Gen Y grrls have this aversion to roles and, you know, labels. She'll expect him to be all top all the time." Jess took another bite of stuffing. She weighs 115 pounds and has the metabolism of a hummingbird. Jess builds mythological jackalopes in CAD for fun and has a career that some think is summed up by her body. (And did I already mention Jess is blunt?)
I thought about this statement of Jess'. I thought about it quite a bit. Maybe this because I once had a killer crush on this certain alpha wolf with wild hair, piercing eyes and a real-man, rock-my-world physique. *clearing throat* Yeah... maybe. But also possible is that I was thinking about this because I felt horribly *responsible.*
I know this young woman he is dating. I know she even reads my blog occasionally. By spouting off about labels and their inherit evils, did I just make my older friend's life kinda... well... awkward? Does this younger grrl expect him to be one way all the time? To be the label he wears most publically and nothing else? Will she be flexible? *crooked grin*
I mulled. I mused. I even kicked myself. They were swift kicks. Then my friend Cris wrote to me out of the blue:
"Hey, EJ. I've been reading your blog, of course, and something stuck out. Just wanted to share my thoughts.
"There is a difference between a label and an identity. A label is what others put on you; an identity is what you claim for yourself. There can be many labels and many parts to an identity. Labels and identities can change. They may have overlapping elements. As I watch the young women and the young men in my life struggle against labels, I wonder: Do they understand that an identity is something there for the taking? That they can take those labels that apply and claim them as their own? That claiming an identity, growing an identity, is empowering?"
This was the key I was looking for. This was a beautiful inspiration. And suddenly everything, all the little pieces, came together. Because labels can be claimed... and they can also be redefined. What it means for me to be a Christian... a grrl... a gamer... a biker... a lover... a raver... I have rewritten these labels to fit me. And more and more, as I feel life try to strip me of my strength and rob me of choices, I find myself proudly claiming these labels (and others) as something like armor and sword and shield. Something others might just call identity.
La-bel (ley buh l) noun, meaning 3: A short word or phrase descriptive of or defining the properties of a person or group, to indicate nature, ownership, etc.
I-den-ti-ty (ahy den ti tee) noun, meaning 2: The condition of being oneself or itself, and not another; a condition or character as to who a person is; the state or fact of being.
I-den-ti-ty (ahy den ti tee) noun, meaning 9: In mathematics, an equation that is valid for all values of its variables.
There is another reason to claim your own identity. A reason that not only helps us clarify who we are in the world and in our hearts, but that makes sure we live an examined life. Sometimes we have to add weaknesses to our armor... or, if not weaknesses, than cautions. What are the negative labels that you have assigned yourself or that the world has assigned you? Liar? Drama Queen? Quitter? Ask yourself: Is there any part of these labels that are valid? If you claim these labels as your own, you can (not so) jokingly warn others... and by claiming them, by accepting responsibility for them, you can begin to change them. Because possession is nine tenths of the law, baby, and if you own it, you have the control.
And with great control comes great responsibility. We may denounce the world and all the labels that it tries to paste on us. But we still have to find our identity. Yes, in the end, we are us. I am EJ. You are you. But who *am* I? Who *are* you? Just a name doesn't help us live in the world. With Christ, we need nothing but a name. In prayer, Christ needs no labels or even an identity plastered to us. But that is because we must come naked as new babies when we kneel before our Lord. We do not come dressed in armor and sword and shield.
But would Christ send us into the fray as babies? Does He intend us to fight without weapon, defense or protection? You know the answer. Our faith makes our identity glow in the dark. Soldiers of divinity.
There is yet another avenue to explore in this discussion of how we survive in this, the world of man. There is yet another reason to build our identity, that armor where every custom-made iridescent scale is carved from a redefined and tailored label.
When we claim a label, make it part of our identity, we claim a past. A history. A community. A heritage that often crosses race and gender and nationality. It is a past that can be good and bad, dark and light, but it connects us to the world and to the events of this world in a way that allows us to become educated and fully-realized citizens. We, in effect, grow up.
"When our supper plates
brim full of nightingales
and the gentle wren lays
dead but singing
it is then we stop, beloved.
Do not weep but rather realize
that those who have marched before
who have beaten back the thorns
that you do not see
back behind the thorns that remain
realize that because of them
you need not weep
for they have wept enough for you."
EJ
