Labels and boxes are funny things. Some people find comfort in knowing where they stand and where they fit. Others resist having descriptors applied to them.
I think the difference comes largely on whether or not we have a sense of empowerment from those descriptions of us, whether they restrict us or provide us understanding and a sense of home.
We have a lot of vocabulary around boxes and fitting in (or not, as it may be). Thinking outside the box, breaking the mold, being a round peg in a square hole.
As an intuitive and empathic person, I’ve spent most of my life trying to understand others’ expectations of me so I could best make myself safe and cared for. That often meant being a chameleon and fitting in various boxes that others placed high value on: being a good student, a pretty girl, a good wife.
Over the last few years, I’ve been dismantling those boxes, expanding my view of myself beyond the binary of male and female, even beyond the often corrosive drive to be “good.” I’ve been embracing my whole self. That’s good, right?
So why do I have a need for new boxes at all? Why can’t I just be an amorphous, freely-expressive being, unlabeled and hemmed in by boxes of anyone’s creation?
Why we need labels
Because that’s not how humans work.
Human beings are designed to categorize everything in our environment. Our brains are wired to look at things and decide if they’re safe or not, edible or not, available to reproduce with or not, part of our tribe or not. It’s a survival trait, hardwired into us and still very much part of who we are.
How our brains work
Underneath our lovely thinking, reasoning brain (pre-frontal cortex), we have our limbic system which controls our emotions, memories and habits, and beneath that we’re all instinct in our reptilian brain. There’s no fighting this, no meditating your way out of your connection to your ancestors and evolution. (Although meditation certainly can help you stay in your higher brain functions and not let the more automatic parts take over.)
Humans like boxes. We live in physical boxes (we call them houses) to keep us safe from the elements. We live in metaphorical boxes of categories, too — genders, religions, hobbies, incomes, education levels, etc. — in an attempt to find safety in life as well, mainly by finding our tribe of people.
If you’ve ever tried to wear clothes that don’t fit, you know how uncomfortable it can be to put your body into something not made for it (whether that’s due to the size of the clothes or their fashion). Boxes that don’t fit you feel much the same.
When you find your fit
Boxes that do fit you, however, feel like a favorite outfit, or a home you love. You feel safe and warm, protected, comfortable.
The boxes that fit you are the boxes that fit you. They don’t need to fit anyone else. They’re not they’re boxes. They’re yours.
You deserve to have boxes that work for you. To have places and people you can call home, things you recognize as aligning with yourself.
What am I talking about?
Finding my own fits
A box that’s never fit me is gender: female. The best descriptor I’ve found so far for my gender is nonbinary. Being able to have a word, a box, for this fundamental aspect of who I am allows me to know myself more, explore this aspect of myself more, and also connect with others who are also within this same box and find solidarity.
Another box I find myself comfy in is writer. Finding my writing tribe almost a decade ago was such an affirming experience. Knowing there were bunches of other people, like me, in my community even, who’d come together and learn about the craft and writing and support each other buoyed me in the hard parts of writing my first books.
A more recent box I’ve found that fits me is someone who’s neurodivergent. In my case, it’s due to ADHD. Some people don’t like this label and think it’s unnecessary. For me, it’s a lens that helps me see my life in retrospect so much more clearly. It helps me make sense of myself.
Other boxes: a survivor of childhood abuse, someone with fibromyalgia, a migraneure (sounds fancy for dealing with a lot of headaches), a gardener, a knitter, a queer person, a parent.
How to live in your boxes in the world
I don’t go into the world, into each of my days, proclaiming loudly for all to hear that I’m a queer knitter, or a gardener with migraines, when I pick up my prescriptions at the pharmacy, or check out at the supermarket. But I do advocate for myself and my needs with more confidence, because I know what those needs are now.
I can also much more easily tell if someone is pressuring me to re-chameleonize myself, either implicitly or unconsciously, and resist putting on a metaphorical outfit that doesn’t suit me. By knowing more of who I am, it’s easier to stay true to who I am.
And by seeing myself, my history, my life, through the lens of the labels I’ve found for myself, I’m able to view it all with much more compassion.
Going through the process of deciding which descriptors of me aren’t true, and which are, has been invaluable for me. It’s helped me understand what I value, what I stand for, who I am. I encourage you to do the same.