Label Maker Malfunction
Writer: Sarah Lindquist
Editor: Izzy Patrizio
Photo from Staff
I was given my first label the day I was born. “Daughter.” That quickly morphed into “Oldest Daughter,” given to me alongside “First Granddaughter.” The first girl for my Grandma, who miraculously managed to raise 4 boys (who didn’t like each other all that much). Despite these being my first labels, I didn’t feel the weight of them until I was much older. By the time I turned four, I received one of my proudest labels – “Big sister.” I didn’t love my brother at the time, and I cried when I found out he was a boy, but I am endlessly grateful for the opportunity to get to love him now.
By 6, I had gotten a few new ones tacked on. I was “The quiet girl” and sometimes “The shy girl” to all of my Kindergarten classmates. I never really spoke unless I was directly spoken to, I didn’t try to make friends, and all I really wanted to do was read in the back of the room. These were labels that didn’t stick around for as long as many may have thought. Quickly, I turned into “a pleasure to have in class.” I answered every question, completed every assignment with no complaints, and I laughed with my classmates, but never too much. If I always had my hand raised, if I was always saying something that sounded smart, that’s what people would remember about me. They’d label me “The smart one,” and that was a lot better sounding than “The girl who is so scared of messing up or not being perceived as worthy because her accomplishments don’t live up to her potential.”
Not all of my labels were given to me by other people, and some of my favorites are the ones that are just for me. My longest lasting self label was “Gymnast.” I started as soon as I could walk, just like every other kid with a little bit too much energy, but unlike a lot of those kids, the sport stuck. Gymnastics became my first love early on. I loved the rush of competing, of knowing everyone’s eyes were on me, but I loved the quieter moments too. The late nights spent pushing my body to its limits, the early mornings spent giggling with my teammates as we put glitter in each other's hair. Just like every other girl in 2016, I had “Gymnast” in my Instagram bio, bracketed by a variety of unrelated “aesthetic” emojis, but I wore the label like a badge of honor anyway. Gymnastics became my first heartbreak too, thanks to one too many broken ankles and the threat of never being able to walk the same. That heartbreak helped me to learn that it’s a lot harder to step away from a label than it is to gain one.
I remember one time, I asked a few of my friends what their first impressions of me were. A couple of them said that they were intimidated by me. I was floored. Intimidated? By me? When I asked them to clarify, they said that they weren’t scared of me, but they were surprised. Surprised to see someone so sure in herself, in her goals and actions, which in this day and age is so rare. I even had a former teacher tell me that she was intimidated by me the whole first semester she had me, because she had never seen a student so ready for what came next. I carried this label through high school with a quiet sense of pride, because maybe they were right. I did know what I wanted, and I did know what I needed to do to get there. When those days came though, when I got into my dream school, for my dream major, or even when I graduated, I had never felt less sure of myself. I got everything I had wanted, every label I had ever hoped I would once possess, but I wasn’t sure I was still the version of myself that had dreamed of these things anymore.
As I moved into college, I felt the pressure of labels even more. All anyone could talk about were clubs, leadership positions, volunteer hours, and internships. Labels weren’t about things you loved anymore, they were about what could be added to your LinkedIn.
As the frenzy of not feeling like you’re enough permeates every day in college, take the time to add labels for yourself. You can be a “book lover,” a “coffee shop enthusiast,” a “gym gal,” or even just someone who loves the feeling of getting to do nothing. It can be difficult to distance yourself from the professional labels, the ones that make you feel like you’re worthy of other people’s time as well. I am a prime example of that- it took me a lot of tough conversations, late nights, and half of a psychology degree to realize that being hyperfocused on professional labels and goals isn’t a healthy, or enjoyable way to live life. With that, I hope you can take time to yourself to reflect on how far you've come, and remind yourself that you’re more than your job title or your major. Find joy in the little things, the moments that won’t last forever, and most importantly, remember that you’re not just a label, you’re a human. It’s okay to show that sometimes.
