Labeling

Looking over the Weaver Track at the southern end of Princeton Stadium, a friend uttered these exasperated words. From track stars to frat bros, labeling is a convenient social device. “Stacey’s in Pi Phi!” “Johnny plays football, and his brother does intramural ballet.” Labels make things simple. They save lengthy introductions and allow us to categorize social relationships. But, many of us just “don’t like it.”

Let’s start at one extreme: We shouldn’t worry about labels, and my friend’s worries about being tagged are childish. He should forget it. Why?

Because first, why should we even worry about the badges assigned to us by others? Let’s say you are on crew and are dissatisfied about being branded a rower. Surely, here the problem lies not in the label but in some other qualms that you have about the stereotypes associated with the sport. To attack a reasonable description of yourself would be childish and unjustified.

Second, labels don’t entirely represent reality. Sure, at a basic level, they provide a simple definition and help to group new, strange faces. But, when relationships grow to the close level that matters, such labels are no longer used. You might only remember that your distant cousin is obsessed with soccer, but you will struggle to define your girlfriend in similarly simple terms. When it counts, you care enough to not use labels.

Finally, even if you do care about how other people label you, is it such a huge problem? Shouldn’t you just get over it? Shouldn’t you just grow to accept and appreciate the automatic security that comes from association with your group?

Not quite.

While labeling can be partially dismissed as a necessary social evil, perhaps it is also a symptom of deeper problems — problems that can, and should, be fixed. Watching hoards of undergraduates scurry around the Princeton campus should be satisfying. Minds are being developed, interests impassioned and relationships formed. A university like this is, at first glance, an encouraging example of intricate human interaction. But, while we all have vastly different backgrounds and lead nuanced, different lives, there is still a tendency for oversimplification.

For example: I go to Princeton. I am Irish. I am a potential economics major. These are labels that categorize me but that fail to explain me. Similarly, just because you play lacrosse or sing or run or frat or dance or spend all day in the library doesn’t make you like everybody else who does those things. Although they help identify someone with a group, labels at Princeton risk imposing the stereotypes of that group on otherwise varied individuals.

And that isn’t ideal. Even a long description of our emotions and ambitions would not give a sufficiently nuanced definition of ourselves. As we go on to work at this bank or that drug company and marry someone from this town or that city, we continue the collection of poorly-defined labels. They may be concise and socially convenient, but our use of generic terms as descriptive tools only diminishes our important human intricacies.

But, if short labels are too restrictive, what other option do we have? Clearly, a society in which everything is described in its most intimate detail is impractical. We require forms of categorization, and to admonish all attempts at such description is unrealistic. However, we can do something. We can be more wary of the overuse of such labels. When people ask you what your friends do at Princeton, don’t reply with, “Oh, well, Nick and Liz are in DiSiac, and Fred plays Warhammer.” Instead, tell your questioner that it’s not that simple. If they are actually interested, let them be told who your friends are — their ambitions, their emotions, their desires. That way, your listener might learn something about themselves and not just perpetuate the trend of oversimplified small talk. Sure, labeling is sometimes acceptable as a path into deeper social interactions. But don’t overuse it. Cut down on it whenever possible. Why? Because otherwise we risk forgetting the traits that truly define us. And, more simply, because we just don’t like it. That, in the end, is reason enough.

Philip Mooney is a freshman from Belfast, Northern Ireland. He can be reached at pmooney@princeton.edu.