Hi and welcome to Chick Swagger! We’re glad you’re here!
I was going to write about our purpose, who we are, yada, yada, but that’s what the other pages are for. Instead, let’s dive right into the mojo and get chatty about pigeonholing.
Pigeonholing is a term used to describe processes that attempt to classify disparate entities into a small number of categories — usually, mutually exclusive ones (Wikipedia).
In other words: labeling.
And of course, labeling often lends itself to stereotyping based on any number of things including: race, religion, personality, appearance, sexual orientation, habits, socio-economic status…You get the idea.
In high school I was one of the “goodie two shoes.” No one ever said it to my face (except my brother – he was joking, but not really), but I felt the stigma (read: exclusion) all the same. Yes, I stayed away from alcohol and drugs. Yes, I got good grades. Yes, I followed curfew and didn’t give my parents too many gray hairs. But that doesn’t mean you should automatically assume you know everything about me forever and ever, Amen.
This holds true for each and every one of us. We are the sum of our parts – all of our parts – even the stuff we keep hidden for fear of rejection or judgment. We are more than just one tired label. One worn-out cliché.
Don’t get me wrong. I really enjoyed high school. But looking back, I can see how that label took on a force of its own becoming a self-fulfilling prophesy. Yet the harder I tried to be perfect or make things perfect, the more I lost myself. The more I splintered.
It took me two lonely, long-term relationships and an eating disorder to realize I’d had enough. It was too hard – too hard – to cram myself into that one tiny label any longer.
So I worked more diligently than I ever had. Inside myself. A process of self-discovery. Self-acceptance. And I finally shattered that fucking label.
Today I’m okay with the polar-opposite slivers of my personality. Most days anyway. I’m light and dark. Good and bad. An extrovert who’s sometimes introverted. I’m a freaking rhubarb, man, with an edible stem and poisonous leaves. I’m the girl who gets tipsy after one drink who loves shooting guns while wearing pink, swearing like a sailor and giggling like a schoolgirl after her first date.
Screw pigeonholing. Be a paradox!
We are — all of us — un-categorical, changeable (Did you know some species of fish actually change from male to female during their life cycle? Now that’s changeable.) and the product of our thoughts.
So think about who you are, who you want to be, and what it’s gonna take to let that shine.
Be you. All shades of you.
Be a paradox. You’ll never regret it.
Do you ever feel pigeonholed? How have you shattered labels in your life?