Label Me1

by Lisa Brady

What’s in a word?  A definition, a label, a jumble of letters arranged to make sense in a certain way.  Words are a very powerful thing.  They can uplift, console, reassure, depress, hurt and cause fear and doubt.  In this world there are a million different stereotypes and a million different prejudices, all given a specific word (label).  And no one is immune.

When I was a child I wasn’t particularly different than the next kid.  Don’t we all start out that way really?  (Though children are considered innocent, we start off being judgmental as soon as we can form our own opinions about anything.)  As I got older I seemed to branch out from my friends and experiment a little more with things like music, clothing and hair.  When my friends were buying Backstreet Boys CD’s and dying to get their hands on their next pair of Abercrombie and Fitch jeans I was listening to metal, wearing my boyfriend’s Jnco’s and black lipstick.  I was also the only girl in 3 grades to have short (spikey) hair.  I always tried to take it to that next level.  I enjoyed being a spectacle to a certain extent and went out of my way to be the complete opposite of what was “socially acceptable”.  In all the years since, I don’t think I ever lost that part of myself.  Even at such a young age I thought that being my own person was invaluable. My efforts did not go unnoticed.  I was called a lesbian or told I looked like a boy regularly.  Words that cut deep inside of me.

Assholes.

They were just words, labels, that didn’t mean anything.  And yet I let them get into my head and hurt my feelings and as much as I would like to pretend that nothing anyone says to me matters, that is just not the case.  We all want to be accepted and loved and valued as human beings.  That doesn’t change just because I have crazy hair or listen to loud, obscene music.  I have always marched to the beat of my own weird drum and though I won’t forget that I was mocked for my differences, I have to remember that I am not innocent here either.

I am an asshole (too).

It’s extremely hard to be walking through a store or down the street and see a person and not make a snap judgment.  Why?  Why do we do that?  What does a person’s appearance really have to do with the kind of personality they have?  Take me for example.  I currently have blue/purple hair, tattoos, several piercings and wear clothing that you’re not gonna find in J.Crew.  And even experiencing negative reactions to my appearance doesn’t stop me from doing it to someone else (does she know what her hair looks like?!).

I don’t think this is ever going to change.  It’s probably been like this since the dawn of time and will probably be like this long after the zombies take over the earth (what?  you don’t think we’re going to have a zombie apocalypse?).  But I am going to try and do my little part to consciously stop being a jerk (even if it is only internally) and maybe put a little more positivity into the universe.  There’s already enough hate and animosity, let’s not add any more to it.

So let’s try and move on from labels and stereotypes.  There isn’t anything to be gained from defining someone on their appearance.  Didn’t we learn anything from the Breakfast Club?