As a small child, I was labeled as shy. The label stuck with me throughout childhood, into my teen and young adult years, and on into my adult life. Because I accepted it, it became a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Not until a few years ago did I reject that label. I'm not shy. I'm soft-spoken and tend to be on the quiet side. I'm also an introvert, which means that I gather energy from alone time. None of that, however, makes me shy. To this day, when I hear a parent or grandparent or teacher label a child as shy, I want to take that child into my arms and tell her to reject that label.
I can hear the yawn-fest now. Why is she blathering on about a childhood label? Get over it, girl. Well, I did. But it took me a long time.
Just like people, labels come in all shapes and sizes. Fat and thin. Pretty and homely. Intelligent and stupid. Ambitious and lazy. Athletic and klutzy. The labels are as varied as the the people who apply them and the people to whom they are applied. So what's wrong with labels?
They place limitations. They limit not only the person being labeled; they also limit the person doing the labeling. Worse, for me, than realizing that I had accepted an untrue label was admitting that I am guilty of the same sin of labeling others.
In Max Lucado's children's book, YOU ARE SPECIAL, the Wemmicks label each other with stickers. One child notices that a girl has no stickers. He comes to understand that she has rejected the stickers others have tried to put on her.
So, for today, I am grateful for those who refuse to label others ... and for those who refuse to be labeled.
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