As a student at Dartmouth, I'm not terribly surprised at how often I hear the question, "What house are you in?" But I always wonder why this question gets asked. Are people trying to gain insight into another's personality with that question? Does our very reaction to the question reveal something about our outlook on life, how fun we are to hang out with, whether we're a good person to borrow notes from? Can one series of Greek letters make or break a nascent relationship?
Or, I wonder, are we just making polite conversation?
At the "LGBTQA at Dartmouth" panel ("Students on LGBTQA panel criticize labeling," Feb. 19), I heard a message that I've heard throughout my three years as a member of the LGBTQA community at Dartmouth: no labels. This theory was part of the impetus behind the group's transition from the 'Gay-Straight Alliance' to an organization called 'Gender, Sexuality, XYZ.' Confused as to what that means? Good, we say. We want you to be confused. We want you to question what gender means, what sexuality means.
Labels can't do that.
Labels don't fit us, I hear the community say. We say "I'm gender-queer," or "I'm fluid," or "I'm a girl who likes guys who does guys like they're girls who like guys who do guys who..." We reject labels because, I think, what we really want to tell Dartmouth, and the world at large, is that what we are, as individuals, can't fit in a sentence.
That's a good answer, but it misrepresents the problem. I believe that this notion becomes so focused in the LGBTQA community at Dartmouth that we end up inadvertently saying this: Don't label me because I'm LGBTQA.
But when you get right down to it, labels don't fit anyone. Oh, that girl is a Kappa pledge, that guy is a hockey player. We all know what that means, right?
Of course, we know they're just stereotypes, yet we continue to use such labels to conceive our social existence. All of these terms are just as narrow and unfitting as is "gay" when applied to someone who is trans male to female and attracted to women. So, how should we all, whether we have overwhelming biological reasons to rail against the identities at Dartmouth or not, treat this subject?
The truth is most of us don't bother to stand up and fight, certainly not against every label or assumption that gets tossed on us. So what function do social labels really serve? Are labels merely marginalization tools that allow us to depersonalize and alienate people we should consider unique and beautiful human beings?
I think the answer is more subtle than this. Labels are words, and most words are used representatively to allow us to refer to and work with concepts that are far more complicated. Labels are the most superficial, simplest ordering devices for our lives. We're all trying to navigate a complicated social space with as few collisions as possible, and sometimes labels are an attractive way to accomplish that. Lately, I've started to think that someone who pauses before responding when I say "partner" is really just trying to save an embarrassing moment for both of us, even if I wish the silence would end. When people struggle with gender pronouns, or hesitate before saying "boyfriend" or "girlfriend," it might be just that they're two parts apathetic and one part polite. We simply don't want to offend. Maybe we should all love each other, but if we can't get there, is there any crime in trying to coexist in peace?
I understand that there is a divergence, that sexual orientation and gender identity are not comparable to assumptions about other aspects of an individual. I understand the struggles that we as an LGBTQA community go through to get people to reject the gender binary and become comfortable with the spectrum of sexuality. I hope, and believe, that we can make Dartmouth more aware of the language, spaces and assumptions that society uses, and how they simply don't fit our community. But just because there is a set of easily identifiable norms that the community violates, do we really have the monopoly on individualism?
Fortunately, I know that the LGBTQA community at Dartmouth would answer emphatically, "No!" But I think that perhaps the message would be stronger if we all recognized that the labels we use to organize our world don't really fit anyone, in a meaningful sense, and if we ever want to move beyond the briefest and most superficial social interactions, we need to, as a Dartmouth community, reject all labels. Perhaps, one day, even LGBTQA.
