I’ve been thinking about labels again. It’s one of those things I keep coming back to, not least because it impacts so heavily how I perceive, and am perceived by, the world. Labels are everywhere, and pretty much unavoidable.

A lot of people really dislike labels, feeling limited by the boxes they’re placed in. Which is understandable – who wants to be crammed into a musty overused damp square that is nothing like who they really are?

I am somewhat different. I love labels. I embrace them. But I love and embrace them for myself. I choose – and sometimes change – my own labels, selecting and decorating and opening up the boxes that I feel suit me the best. That label over there? That’s one of mine. See how airy and friendly it is? See why I like this box? It’s because I chose it.

I feel that the problem with labels isn’t the labels themselves. Labels are just words which symbolise something larger, and words are – in theory at least – supposed to increase understanding. The problem is when labels are used by one person to identify another, as that’s a shortcut which leads to misunderstandings, not to mention resentment!

That said, it’s damned hard not to label people. Walking down the street I still default to trying to identify the gender of people walking past me. It shouldn’t matter, any more than height or hair colour or shoe style, and yet I still catch myself doing it. They’re snap judgements on who you are – and those snap judgements can trip me right up. How do I avoid it? I can’t. The only thing I can do is recognise and accept what I’ve done, and then (this is the hard bit) put that judgement aside as I interact with you. Because I’d far rather know how you choose to label yourself than stick to my own, probably inaccurate, perceptions.

These are some of the labels I’ve chosen for myself. Some you might pick up as you walk past me. Some you might guess from reading my blog. Some you would only know if I told you. So I’m telling you now.

I’m: fat, happy, kinky, Buffy-fan, slut, childfree, exhibitionist, migraineur, bibliophile, switch, suicide-survivor, pansexual, open, loving, orphan, polyamorous, boss, kiwi, sex-blogger, woman, writer. And label-lover!

I also have a new label. It’s one I’ve been slowly evolving into over the last five years. And it’s one that will have a very big impact on my interactions with the world.

I’ve changed my name. Legally. While I kept my first name (Dee is a contraction of it), my middle and surnames are now ones I have chosen for myself. My old name was cramped, full of baggage and history and grief. My new name is big, spacious, and friendly. It’s mine, picked by me for my own reasons, and able to be shared with the world.

A new label, to add to the rest. A label I love and embrace for myself.

I’m Dee Morgan. It’s lovely to meet you! Tell me, what labels do you choose to use?

| Curvaceous Dee
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