Beyond the labels
“You’re kidding me? You’re a Chartered Accountant? I wouldn’t have guessed looking at you. You are actually smart! Why the hell are you working with a Foundation? Are you burnt out already? Actually, it makes sense, with kids and all — this light-touch work must be great for you.”
A very senior executive had labelled me with a condescending laugh to seal the blow. Its effect was felt deeply by an inexperienced younger me just like the speaker had known it would. It was not the first and wouldn’t be the last time I’d heard something like this. It didn’t help that most comments came from those who didn’t even know what I really did. They couldn’t care less.
Urmila Matondkar was called a soft porn star, in an attempt to reduce decades of her work within three seconds. A successful woman’s professional career had to be defended against careless words thrown in the air. A planned insult that became a hot topic up for debate.
People love stereotyping and labeling. Trusting the label instead of the content is easier. Because for the senior executive to comment on my work, would’ve meant he had to take time to understand it first. But who’s got the time? They say don’t judge a book by its cover. When nobody is interested in opening the book, we are stuck with being judged, labeled by our covers.
Whether we are men or women, being at the receiving end of patronizing crap by those who have no business commenting on our lives, choices or our backgrounds is not easy to handle. As women it is additionally normalized, sometimes blatantly as “She’s asking for it” if she shows a spine. With time we either get accustomed to the affront that gets normalized, or we may become good at managing it.
The process of labelling is fairly simple and uncomplicated.
Step one: Pick a label… Can be house-husband, feminist, capitalist, communist, dalit, muslim, bring in your personal biases and feel free to choose!
Step two: Slot, judge basis generic qualities of label. Ignore nuance and details.
Step three: Shoot and apply designated label. One-size-fits-all.
What matters is not what is being said or done, but the who is saying or doing it. Our personal biases respond to labels like snakes to snake-charmers. Dancing to the tune of misplaced music.
Labels invalidate our personal journeys. We believe them, we become them. They bring expectations to be a certain kind. To be an aberration becomes undesirable. We lose our individuality to our designated vocations and roles. We lose self-love. Case in point — Selfless Mothers.
A woman is ‘complete’ if she is a mother and all mothers must be ‘selfless’. Thereby ends our responsibility to recognize her emotions, feelings, angst as she gives up her personal desires for children and family. So many young women suffer quietly with postpartum depression because it’s uncool to even say one is not enjoying early motherhood. And so many of us have realized the enormous burdens we had unknowingly placed on our mothers only once we become parents. It’s a horrible crown of thorns that she must wear for the label gifted to her.
Whether we choose to manage these labels or shrug them off, it takes abundance of self-love and consistent work to become the person who can breathe, navigate and grow in spite of them. To break away from being the merchandise for irresponsible labelers and becoming our own person is never easy, but worth all the effort.
When an 8 yr old me heard Whitney Houston sing, it felt like a personal message, from someone who cared, who had been vulnerable, had overcome and was telling me to do the same. The import of her words stayed with me sinking in deeper over the years.
“I’ve decided long ago, never to walk in anyone’s shadow.
If I fail, if I succeed, at least I’ll live as I believe,
No matter what they take from me, they can’t take away my dignity.
Because the greatest love of all is inside of me”
No, even after being deeply affected by her words, life has not been a series of neat, empowered decisions. There are high peaks but many, many more low points. But her message kept coming back at strange times that in retrospect have been defining moments in my life.
When Whitney Houston committed suicide, the vision of this laughing happy strong woman kept coming to me. I mourned like I would for a friend. Because even in her exit she taught me that empowerment or achievement of self-love beyond the labels is a continuous marathon, not a 100m sprint. As long as we are, the path will be. It is for us to choose or not to choose.
