For some months I’ve been thinking about the labels we use to define ourselves, prompted partly by this article by Charlie Mitchell, which is perceptive about several things like the reductiveness of labels and, contrarily, the necessity of having words to hang our identities on. You might consider yourself above labels, but if you’re on Twitter (for instance) then there’s a good chance there are several in your 160-character biography alone. Your job, your age, your interests, your gender, your location. We label ourselves to help others build up a picture of us, and for our own sake too.
You’ll be familiar with the sensation of noticing a word for the first time and then seeing it everywhere. That word for me, at the moment, is ‘intersectionality’, which relates to the interaction of overlapping systems of discrimination. One of the central theses of Julia Serano’s brilliant book Whipping Girl is that trans women face discrimination not merely because they’re trans, but because they’re women. Throw in factors like race, class, education, dis/ability, and you have a multiplicity of intersectional permutations.
I’ve been reading what by my standards is an absurd amount of theory this year (approximately two books), and something that becomes apparent is that you can’t understand queer theory, say, without a grounding in gender theory and feminist theory, and probably other theories of oppression too. I struggled with Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble because I haven’t read Foucault; but by the same token I’d struggle with Foucault because I haven’t read Nietzsche, for instance. Everything is connected. No person is an island, entire of itself, as John Donne meant to write. Intersectionality.
It wasn’t until I attended a performance of Tribes by Nina Raine a couple of weeks ago that I realised how ubiquitous labelling is in my life. Raine’s play is about a deaf young man, Billy, brought up in a hearing household, who comes to realise that his own family is as cloistered in its way as the ‘deaf community’ that he has avoided all his life. It can be nice to feel included in a tribe, but it can also be oppressive, and not helped by every member being an individual with a different understanding of what should define membership. The problem with so many tribes is the nuance-free ‘them and us’-style tribalism that in time evolves.
Watching the play, I started thinking about the semblance of order I try to impose on these blog posts, assigning broad and unsatisfactory categories and then adding narrower tags so that (in theory) someone can click on one and be met with a raft of similar results. We have a thousand tags we could attach to ourselves in a similar manner, if we were only computerised. I don’t often tag myself as a Chelsea fan, or as a sufferer of a chronic illness, because although I would place myself in both demographics, however tentatively, neither feels of primary importance to my being; but I could if I wanted to.
Then, suddenly, came a realisation of the extent to which my daily work, cataloguing, relies on labels. The cataloguer’s greatest friend is the Library of Congress Authorities website. This is a database of names and subject headings expressed in a standardised way to enable matching. Search it yourself. If you know a published author, they will (in theory) have a name entry in the database. Subject headings are the most interesting. A keyword search for ‘librarians’ brings up 2,000+ entries, including the following:
If you’re above a certain age, you’ll have seen this sort of thing in card catalogues; nowadays a bibliographic record online will contain several of these headings as hyperlinks, to facilitate the identification of similar books. A global web of connections.
At the end of Tribes, following estrangement, comes reconciliation. Dan, the older brother, reaches out to Billy, offering his hand and asking him the sign for LOVE, sign language having been a bone of contention throughout the play. That, I suggest, I hope, is what is behind labelling. Wanting to make a connection, wanting someone else to hold our hand, figuratively or actually. So let’s try not to let our differences set us against other people. Let’s celebrate the differences, acknowledge the humanity we have in common, and unite against our one common enemy: the government.
Tags: Authorities, Connections, Gender, Intersectionality, John Donne, Judith Butler, Julia Serano, Labels, LCSH, Librarians, Libraries, Library of Congress, Nina Raine, No Homers, Oppression, Sexuality, Tags, The Simpsons, Theory, Transgender, Tribes