Every now and then, you hear something profound.
Take, for example, a passing conversation I had with my sister-in-law at a Red Lobster over the weekend. She was discussing names for children. I made (as you might imagine) some comment about labeling people. She responded that we all do it when we name our children. And, me being me, I immediately wanted to say something about our horrible tendencies as human beings to limit ourselves with labels, but I couldn’t, because her comment, even though it hadn’t been in any way connected to this debate that I consistently have with myself, shut me up.
I’ve talked before about my (passionate) dislike of labels. I’ve also talked about the realization that naming a person is a sacred and powerful exercise, one that should not be taken lightly. So, where do the two intersect? Where does one end and the other begin?
At the risk of claiming the ever popular “all is good in moderation” stance, this is a post more of questions than answers, and will certainly be short of epiphanies, because this idea has caused me to think and question, and I’m still in that process. I remain adamant that to label something is an act of our need to understand, to bring a concept or occurrence down to a level where we can grasp its nature. Labeling something, theoretically, gives one power over something, as in diagnosis. Labeling assists us in knowing about things better, but not necessarily in knowing the thing.
So, I think that the thin line may lie there: while labeling assists us in knowing about something or someone, naming helps us to actually know something or someone, because naming is a gesture of relationship, not analysis; of connection, not mere intellectual inquiry. After all, she’s right: we do do this all the time, with people, not just concepts. While labels run the (enormous) risk of becoming self-fulfilling prophecies (again, diagnoses spring to mind, along with a myriad of other things), naming seems almost to be shaping a destiny in advance. Think about the etymology of your friends and loved ones’ names. I imagine most if not all of them bear out the meanings of our names.
So, while I continue to voraciously push back on labels, I am in awe of the power of a name, and am determined to use it wisely, as it was not a power to be wasted or used flippantly.
Turns out vacations are good for inspiration, even when I’m slacking from typing words onto the screen. Who knew?
Sounds like you would agree with most of Kristeva. 🙂
I think your point about naming things can show up not only in the parent/child relationship, but also in knicknames. Some of my friends call me “Kat,” but only my good friends. Some of them, I would never want to call me that.
Then, on another point, there is a certain comfort that comes in being named; it feels like one has been acknowledged as real, as a person.
That’s a great point, Katherine. Perhaps receiving a name isn’t just a singular event in one’s life, then.
I’m not familiar with Kristeva?
Julia Kristeva is a literary critic of the structuralist ilk. I don’t agree with everything she argues, but one interesting thing she writes about is the relationship between what something is and the thing itself. She goes off into Freudanism though, but her main idea is that words are connected to something deeply emotional, but opposed to the strict (and she would sale masculine) tendency to assign definitions.
Some of her stuff is ridiculous, but it is interesting to think about.
Interesting. I would have difficulty putting too much weight on any argument that leans Freudian, though…
Oh believe me! I do too! But, something to know about.