Labels

People call me the N word.

It’s troubling, it stamps me with a label.

A label I didn’t want, instead I rather earned.

They call me it for a variety of reasons, some down solely to insecurity and conversely inspiration.

What do they call me?

“Networker”

You see, this word has some connotations and expectations not even the greatest of people could live up to on a daily basis.

It infers that you’re in touch with a plethora of people.

However, it’s quite unlike that at all.

My point here is not to moan.

Instead to denounce labels.

I’ve really started to hate labels, mainly because they categorise me.

I feel many categories are too broad for my whole existence.

As I get bucketed by algorithms, I’d prefer my interactions to be purer.

It’s a utopian dream in a dystopian world.

Labels are great for Excel spreadsheets, but they limit your perception of others.

Consider this:

‘I’m a student

I’m a UCL student

I’m a UCL STS student

I’m a UCL STS MSc Student’

Each time it gets more specific, but I’ve created at least four categories here.

Does our lives have to be a series of categories?

Aren’t we more than labels?

Depending on these labels, sticking by them and dying for them is useless.

You’re more than your category.

Labels