Who Are We?

Labels can be messy.

When we believe we are a label that we have been ascribed or adapted for ourselves can create a limitation to what we can achieve. Life becomes stressful when we try to live based on labels, not our authentic selves. Labels take over; someone is either something or they are not, causing our brain to make irrational shortcuts.

Being human is complex, and we fool ourselves if we think it is not. Somewhere along the childhood journey, we start to adapt, adopt, interpret, and download ideas we have collected from the adults in our lives, friends, environment, and society. And it is these ideas that we reconfigure and allow to become truths in our conscious and subconscious. It is how we interpret these ideologies that make each of us unique. But, are these beliefs ours', or just borrowed from others that may not be suitable for us? Could these adaptations be a way for us to feel that we belong and are a part of something? Belongingness, love for relationships and friends, and being a group member are in the third tier of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, which leads to the fourth need, Esteem. Children do not move to the next level until they master the previous level. Are societal stigmas and rules creating individuality or forcing us into cages to meet expectations? Are these expectations forms of grooming? 

When did I start to lose my individuality? 

Reflecting on my childhood, I remember distinct moments when I felt free and alive. Living in a suburban plat, I expressed myself by playing Barbies with the neighbor girls, kickball with the neighbor boys, and dressing up in my father's soft cotton t-shirt cinched at the waist with a leather belt. I believed this was my superhero outfit—that I had secret superpowers that were waiting to be revealed. I didn't second guess my interests and gleefully bounded around. My older brother was the complete opposite. He hated anything girly, never played Barbies, or wore anything resembling a dress. He would hide under the bridge and scare the little girls by pretending to be a troll. My brother and I only had one thing in common, our buzzed haircuts, although his hair was dark, and I was a towhead. 

What did that mean? Was that good or bad? 

Living in this euphoric suburban neighborhood was interrupted when my father purchased an old farm in a rural community. Once we moved, he told me I would no longer play with Barbies, dress in his t-shirts, or sing and dance. Bewildered, I wondered if my individuality forced us to move. I began to believe it was my fault because I failed to achieve the mission to blend in and be normal like others. 

On the farm, things changed. People stopped visiting except a couple of Dad's friends, and we became isolated. Dad explained, "I don't want us to air our dirty laundry so others can judge us." Was he embarrassed with me? Was I the 'dirty laundry?' 

Was this shame I felt? And why are we ashamed? 

I internalized these questions, and they started affecting my inner self. I was no longer brave or confident; I marred myself with this self-inflicted guilt that I was the reason for all these changes. Isolation and separation crept in because people felt it was too far to visit, and family members ceased communicating. Did I fail my father by being so different? And yet, I could not change. I found places where I could secretly sing, dance, play Barbies, develop stories, and try to hold on to what remained of my uniqueness. My new mission was to appear 'normal' and secretly hold on to my individuality. My sensitivity became overloaded, and I began to experience anxiety because I believed moving to the farm was my fault. 

My older brother's never-ending teasing added to my growing anxiety. He constantly pointed out that I looked different from everyone else in our immediate family because I had blond hair, which could only mean I was not an actual family member. When we were alone, he theorized I must be from outer space, adopted, or the milkman-truckdriver-carnie's son. Whenever we would go to the county fair, he would point out men that Mom talked to and say, "Maybe that's your real dad."

In her book, Untamed, Glennon Doyle shares, "Ten is when we learn how to be good girls and real boys. Ten is when children begin to hide who they are to become what [they interpret] the world expects them to be. Right around ten is when we begin to internalize our formal training.” But if our childhood development was interrupted by abuse of any kind, and we are told that this was the only thing we were meant to be, we begin infiltrating these ideals of not being good enough, or we caused this to happen, into our mind and begin portraying what we think this means. We were children, trying to understand adult ideology.

How many of these derogatory statements pierced through my brain cells and took residency in my memory bank?

Glennon Doyle stated, "Our men are caged, too. The parts they must hide to fit into those cages are the slices of their humanity that our culture has labeled feminine--traits like mercy, tenderness, softness, quietness, kindness, humility, uncertainty, empathy, and connection. We tell them, 'Don't be these things because these are feminine things to be. Be anything but feminine." For generations, the ideal image of being a real man has been passed down with various cultural influences. The iconic perfect man appears set in stone based on everyone's grooming, yet there is no concise and concrete law. And why is it so crucial for society to have clear-cut lines of femininity and masculinity? "Because disallowing the expression of these qualities is the way the status quo keeps its power," explained Doyle.

Although I heard what it was to be a man and how real men treat women, something in me resisted. Suppose I was born with the ability to be nurturing, kind, empathic, sensitive, loving, and helpful toward others. Why would people near me deter me from developing these gifts and encourage me to be different? My young mind faced a problem. I felt I had to choose; either I changed my views and who I was to belong to a tribe or remain steadfast in my convictions and alone.     

For some strange reason, I recalled a bible story and understood the emotional turmoil I was experiencing. I understood how the unknown woman felt when she decided to go to the Pharisee Simon's house, follow her faith, and see Jesus. The unbelievable fear left her speechless, and her eyes filled with tears. The amount of courage it took the uninvited woman to enter the house, knowing she carried the discriminatory preconceptions of what she imagined others thought of her and the false beliefs she accepted, adapted, and learned for herself. She knelt and washed Jesus's feet with her tears, dried them with her hair, and anointed them with perfume. 

My young mind struggled with how she had the strength and faith to remain steadfast in her authentic self and follow her intuition to meet Jesus. Why was she not influenced to be afraid of Simon and the others? Why did she not attempt to be like those around her? Maybe she tried and realized that was not her true self, which may have given her the inner power to enter Simon's house, uninvited. 

Eckhart Toole said, "Identification with your mind creates an opaque screen of concepts, labels, images, words, judgments, and definitions that block all true relationships." The constant influx of outside notions and fragmented thoughts that we adapt, adopt, interpret, and download creates a barrier between our disillusioned and authentic selves." In the book Truth to Triumph, author Lily Sanders says, "Explore different ways of expressing yourself from the viewpoint of a naked, label-free, nameless soul...Never allow yourself to be identified with a name or a label. Truth cannot be named. You are not your social status, and you are not your bank account. You are not your family name...you are not your experience. Life is not defined by your experiences; rather, your experiences bring opportunities for you to get closer to your higher self."

In her book, Use It: Turn Setbacks into Success, Cheryl Hunter states, "Your thoughts are not your friends." Our thoughts are like an onion; as we peel each layer away, we face another layer of false beliefs we have created based on surrounding influences. Hunter states, "Ultimately, our very definition of who we are becomes enmeshed with and equivalent to our thoughts and the process of thinking," which echoes René Descartes' quote, "I think; therefore I am." 

If I become what I think, why would I want to settle for anything less than the best images I can imagine? Why do some people from modest beginnings become leaders and millionaires, while others donned in entitlement can become homeless? Is it all luck? My dad used to say, "These are the cards God dealt you, so get used to it."  

Are we the labels we give ourselves?

Words like victim, survivor, and thriver carry profound implications based on the meaning we each attach to the terms and thus basically dictate how we behave. Someone who has experienced a sexually abusive event can easily be labeled as a victim from outside sources, like law enforcement, medical examiners, lawyers, and society. The Cambridge Dictionary defines a victim as "Someone or something that has been hurt, damaged, or killed or has suffered, either because of the actions of someone or something else, or because of illness or chance." According to SAKI (Sexual Assault Kit Initiative), the term victim typically refers to "someone who has recently experienced a sexual assault; additionally, this word is commonly used when discussing a crime or when referencing the criminal justice system."

As the person who experienced such trauma, the word victim never felt comfortable or desirable and prevented me from asking for help until it was inevitable. I never wanted to be considered a victim because I interpreted the word to represent shame, powerless, weakling, and unable to protect myself. As a male, I battled with the label of being male and felt I was not permitted to adopt the label victim, which I was taught was allocated for females. The term victim also brought on a whole new behavior: I was only willing to participate when needed when being interviewed by lawyers and therapists. The label victim allowed me to identify and behave how I thought a victim should act, like being diagnosed with an illness or disability, which allowed me the relief of temporarily belonging to a group of people who identified as victims. Many people who have experienced sexual abuse are reluctant to identify as victims because of the definition's limitations. There is a sense of continuing victimhood implied with the word. 

So many have adapted to the word, survivor. Cambridge Dictionary defines a survivor as "a person who is able to continue living his or her life [or their] life successfully despite experiencing difficulties." SAKI refers to the term survivor as "an individual who is going or has gone through the recovery process; additionally, this word is used when discussing the short-and long-term effects of sexual violence." 

I can see the hope interweaved with the word survivor, and I even adopted the term during my TEDxDayton Talk, "I am no longer a victim; I am a survivor." But since I declared this, I still struggle with the terms of victim and survivor because both transport me back to the moments of the abuse. And how I interpret survivor affects how I present myself. Some people still identify as victims, while others identify as survivors. 

Recently, some people have adopted the term thriver, in which the Cambridge Dictionary describes as “to grow, develop, or be successful.” Thriver instills a sense of forward movement despite the implications of past experiences. Thriver is positive, but why do we need to create labels to feel a part of a community?

Are we limiting our potential by believing the labels others put on us and those we adapt, adopt, interpret, and download for ourselves?

Humans are programmed to identify themselves with labels, affecting our behavior. Tony Robbins said, "One of our strongest needs within our personality is to make certain that our behavior is consistent with our identity even if the identity we hold for ourselves is negative."

Henry David Thoreau once said, "In the long run, men only hit what they aim at. Therefore, they had better aim at something high." Adapting, adopting, interpreting, and downloading labels will constantly preoccupy our conscious mind with how we think we must behave and act, deflect from our true selves, and prevent us from figuring out our genuine passion and purpose in this life. Be aware of the labels you invest in and take time to figure out who you are and believe you can become that person. Release the limitations of labels and the engagement in identity, soar freely, and see your true self emerge.