Names are powerful, magical even… naming and labeling one’s interests, sexual proclivities, food preferences, is part of the work we do to construct a coherent narrative of ourselves. Our identity, in other words.
But the magic of labeling seems to rest on assumptions of binary relationships between groups: I belong to this group, not this one. You belong with me. She, however, does not. In or Out. Yes or No. 1 or 0.
I’ve come to a point in my maturity when I can say “huh?” to all this. By which I mean, I think I’m finished with trying to live up to labels and the assumptions they carry with them.
Life is just way more complex than this. More nuanced. More rainbow-y.
And I love colors.