Reclaiming Freedom Through Labels

For some folks, the barrage of new terms and labels to describe nuance in the ever-shifting landscape of sexuality and gender is an unwelcome onslaught that only adds to confusion, restriction even.

Not the case for me. With each new label I’ve been introduced to over time that resonated, I’ve unlocked a new level of freedom and authenticity. For me, having more precise words with which to communicate my experience provides a profound sense of relief.

I was always going to be niche anyway—I’m multiply neurodivergent and I come from a long line of multiply neurodivergent creative traumatized people on all sides of my family tree; nothing about my experience was ever going to fit into a standardized box no matter what words anyone used. It’s not that I need to continually carve out proof that I’m special—I’ve needed to continually carve out proof that I’m human.

In my teens and early twenties, my wants and desires were shrouded in mystery both to myself and to others because I almost never saw them reflected back to me from social circles or media. Occasionally I would read a passage in an old book, or view a sequence in an indie film, and think yes! This resonates. This reflects some part of me that I don’t otherwise know how to explain to anyone else, and gives me hope that maybe…cautiously maybe…there’s someone else I might actually meet in my lifetime who humans similarly to how I human. This would be proof that I’m human. That I, too, belong.

When you haven’t yet found your other niche humans, typically as a neurodivergent youth, you seek out your niche characters in books and video games and TV shows. You bond with animals. You become a seeker. You look for proof that you belong, somewhere, somehow.

A label can be a beacon. A lighthouse. A flag. A home.

I continue to find new potential labels to try on for size. Does it fit? Does it help me understand my own experience better?

But individual experimentation/self-exploration with words, labels, identity isn’t just for neurodivergent people. It’s not just for queer people. It’s for everyone, and we’ve been doing it for as long as we’ve been human. Jesus (whether you interpret it literally or symbolically) had to separate himself from the labels and standards of the society he was born into and craft new ways of identifying and relating to others—at great risk to his safety. The stagnant, repressive laws, social norms, and language of the dominant culture weren’t serving the people. Every political and social revolution has included the invention of new labels and social structures—because the old ones had become stifling. Maybe they were effective once, or maybe some of them only ever served a dominant power structure, but as society constantly evolves, so does language. Ceaselessly. We as human beings are as much composed of constantly shifting words as we are of constantly shifting cells.

Elitist forces try to tell you that words and social shifts are the dangerous thing that’s out to get you and rob you of your safety and stability as a distraction while they steal actual physical resources out from under all of our noses. Water. Clean air. Trees. Money. Food. Time. Labor.

I want to tell everyone that it’s ok to explore labels, to experiment and play with these words, to embrace fluidity and trying on and discarding words as we figure ourselves out. That this is how we can draw closer to genuine authenticity, and through that to a gentler, more accepting, more integrated way of moving through the world with ourselves and with others. I want to tell people that it’s not silly or selfish or a waste of time.

Mostly I want to tell people that it’s safe.

I want to say that, only, it’s not true. Not socio-politically. Not in certain circles. Not aloud? Not in certain states? Not if you look a certain way? Not if you piss off the wrong people? Not if you have kids? Not if you are a kid?

If I said it was blanket-safe for everyone to experiment with labels and identity to anyone and everyone, I’d be lying.

But I’m driven to continue to work towards a world in which it is safe. Even when that possibility seems out of reach. Idealistic, naive.

I don’t think it is naive though. I think the backlash we’re experiencing for it now is severe, but it’s severe because power/resource hoarders recognize that we’re creating new possibilities with words that could destabilize their monopoly.

Experimentation with words and labels and identity is vital not only to the individual, but also to the health and vitality of community. It’s part of how we adapt and evolve to face new challenges as a society. It’s why, once upon a time, people rallied behind the idea of freedom of speech—in a way that was meant to support the underdog. The working class. Freedom of speech, freedom of expression. These things may seem to be slipping out of our grasp, but that’s a rhetorical tactic used to suppress the people. All the people. Not just neurodivergent people, queer people, people of color, non-Christians, disabled people (although it hits these populations especially hard). I don’t know how exactly to communicate to less-marginalized populations that the loss of freedom to experiment with language and labels is going to have a negative effect on their wellbeing and livelihood as well, but I know that it already does, and it will only get worse.

In the meantime, I’m scared a lot of the time to be who I am and say what I believe. Sometimes I think it’s worth the risk, sometimes I don’t. I want my communities to be safe. I want us to be able to keep having potlucks in the public parks and art workshops in the public libraries and dances in the public spaces, to feel like we belong, as humans, in safety and full expression.