The Irony of Labels

I thought I didn’t care about labels, so why am I so obsessed with the titles I use to describe myself to others in the world? I go back and forth finding the “right" professional role to describe myself online. But even if salt and sugar don’t change regardless of what you call them, if you label them incorrectly, your food will turn out different from what you expect. So labels are like doors. Our names and our titles are the signs we give ourselves to the doors that lead others to our inner selves. Do we want others to enter into the vulnerable spaces of our hearts or do we want to just open up a lobby, a place where our persona resides, to tell others that this curated version of us is who we are.

My obsession with professional titles started when I decided to quit my job as a landscape architect to do a PhD. My official label became Leave of Absence (and subsequently Inactive, when the association decided to change the title). But the irony was that I was working “actively” on a research study about landscape architecture and “actively” surveying and interviewing landscape architects. My mind could not let go of the falsity of the label I was given. While part of me was upset with the institution of landscape architecture, the deeper issue was that language betrayed me.

Eventually, I decided to let go of the title altogether. The reason was less of wanting others to stop seeing me as a landscape architect but my desire to stop being limited by how the title defined how I would see myself in the world, particularly how the title influenced what being a professional meant; what worthiness, usefulness, and value meant; and what purpose meant. When I can get out of that box, I can then see my true purpose, the one gifted to me when I incarnated on Earth for this lifetime.

But then, each time I came into a new role, I would end up with questions.

Can I call myself a philosopher if I don’t have a university title? Can I call myself an author if I self-publish a book that few people will read? Can I call myself an artist if I don’t exhibit or make money from my art? Can I call myself an educator if I create educational videos that nobody watches? Can I say I was an academic if I never had an academic position after my PhD?

After all this questioning, I realised that these labels weren't meant for my own use. They were meant for the people who did not want to get to know who I really am. Why can’t I call myself the role I actively do? At first it may seem like imposter syndrome, not having the confidence to own up to the role and to be good enough for the title. But that’s not it. The problem isn’t imposter syndrome. The problem is that labels are gatekeepers to a collective set of social beliefs. A label carries with it a history of meanings and the values civilizations have placed on success. The words limit us from being all that we could be. For example, what is an artist? Well, this is what artists do; this is what successful artists have achieved; these are the virtues of an artist; are you a fit for this club?

My annoyance with labels go back to social identities of race and ethnicity. For instance, why would I call myself Asian if I live in North America? My name looks obviously Vietnamese, and yet, I don't have Vietnamese ancestry. My ancestors were from Canton (now called Guangzhou), China, but I wouldn’t really be considered Chinese in modern-day China. And while my parents were both born in Vietnam, neither of them have ever identified as Vietnamese.

People love to share their cultural labels with others (especially in Canada) but I find them stifling. They easily identify us into specific cultural traumas, yet leave us stranded when we aren’t fully aligned to them. We can neither find belonging in our labels nor in the language of the label’s culture. But there is one label that I can find comfort in. That is, to be a spiritual being learning to be human. This label nobody can deny from me. There is no club to join and no history for me to carry. My existence is enough to be both a spiritual being and a human being and the fact that I can question my choices means that I learning my way in life.