Why Do We Label Each Other?

Labels.

We all have them. Some we bestow upon ourselves. Others we dole out to friends, family, even complete strangers.

Why? Why must we label ourselves and each other? Does it harken back to prehistoric times when knowing another’s label could be a matter of life or death? Or is it one more way to help distinguish “us” from “them?”

In a 2010 article from Psychology Today, it says: “Categorical labeling is a tool that humans use to resolve the impossible complexity of the environments we grapple to perceive. Like so many human faculties, it’s adaptive and miraculous, but it also contributes to some of the deepest problems that we face.”

In other words, labels can be helpful, but they can also be harmful. It all depends how you use them.

Often the labels we ascribe to others are just plain wrong. Those labels are based on our own perceptions and interpretations of another person’s past, present and even future.

She’s slow. He’s a jock. They’re smart. They’re band geeks. She’s easy. He’s a player. All labels.

My friend Tammy sent out an email newsletter last week that reminded me that we are all defined by where we come from.

She referenced a poem by George Ella Lyon called “Where I’m From.” You can read it here. Many writing teachers use this poem as a prompt or writing exercise for their students. “Where are you from?” is typically the question and then you just start writing.

The first time I heard Lyon’s poem was a few years ago when I was taking an online writing class and the teacher did exactly that. She read us the poem and told us to spend 15 minutes writing about where we come from.

I dug through my old notebooks and found what I wrote then:

          I am from fabric, farms, and schoolbooks.

          From music and cookies.

          The garden and applesauce.

          Rhubarb and holes in fences.

          Sows and old houses.

          Boxes of lace and bags of buttons.

          Short tempers and long walks; chickens and sheep; yarn and needles.

          Collections of stamps, bells, bears, and penguins.

          I am from Hettie and Mabel, Ellen and Ruth.

          I am from pianos, organs, flutes, and marching bands.

          Pews, crucifixes, and midnight mass.

          Long drives and lunches at Bob Evans on Wednesdays for senior citizen day.

          Travelogues and Buckeyes. High Street and Mershon Auditorium.

          I am from pets long gone and still yet to come.

          I am from the C&O and peanut butter and pickles.

          I am from strength and empathy. Compassion and caregiving.

          I am from Ohio.

I gave myself a few labels there, didn’t I? Wife, mother, daughter, sister, Buckeye, writer, musician, knitter, caregiver.

I can define myself because I know what I’ve experienced. But I definitely cannot define anyone else. I haven’t walked in their shoes. I don’t know where they’ve been or where they’re going.

The next time you think about casting a label on someone, stop for just a moment. Think about how that one word, one label, could define that other person for a lifetime. Would you want someone to do that to you?

What about you? Where are you from? I’d love to read whatever you come up with. You can post in the comments below or email me at susie@stix-n-stonez.com

Until next week,

Susie from Stix-N-Stonez.