Stereotypes and Reflections

The other day I sat on my bathroom floor painting my nails. It was my day off from tennis, and I was using a half-read Economist as a shield for the floor, Skyping with a friend, waiting for a Family Guy episode to download on Hulu, sitting next to a Hello Kitty bath mat, and painting my nails. For me, this is not a surprising collage of items, activities, and interests. In fact, I was rather amused when I thought about the varied things that I like to do and the varied items I have accumulated. Here’s what I considered.

The Economist implies I am a geek.

The fact that it was my day off from tennis implies that I’m a jock.

The Skyping shows that I’m social and I like to talk to friends.

The Family Guy points to my sense of humor (and maybe my adoration of a certain football-headed baby).

The Hello Kitty bath mat implies, well, that I like Hello Kitty/ have liked it for a million years (?).

Taylor Swift and Lady Gaga lyrics were probably running through my head (they always are), making me someone who likes attention, dancing, and more attention.

The painting of my nails paints me as a girly girl.

Am I all of these things, or even any of them? It’s quite possible—but it’s also quite possible that I’m not, or that I’m any mix of the six, or the millions of other qualities I haven’t listed, or that I’m—yes, you might freak out—simply a mix of so many things that (here’s the gasp) they can’t exactly be defined.

If this is true, then why do we like to classify ourselves so much? If we can’t even identify with the entirety of a stereotype or the projected image of a certain type of person, why do we yearn to call ourselves one? Here’s an example: say that you want to be a surfer. You call yourself a surfer gal. You surf, you’re fit, you hit the beach all the time, and you even tan extremely nicely. But you don’t do drugs, you have an inexplicable interest in African history, and you’ve never missed an episode of Cupcake Wars. Clearly, you don’t quite fit the entire surfer-gal bill—you’re too varied. But we tone these varied parts of ourselves down to fit into a group or even to make friends. Why? In my opinion, a girl who loves to surf but isn’t stoned 24/7 and who has an interest that exists outside of the realm of H2O is a much more interesting person than the surfer gal who only likes to be on the water. I’m not saying that I have anything against surfers. I’m saying that even “surfers” aren’t just surfers. Just like I’m not just a geek, a jock, a humorist, a Hello Kitty fan, a music-maniac, a girly-girl, or a multi-tasker. I’m a bit of them all.

I think that we associate ourselves with boiled-down, “specialized” ideas and stereotypes because it’s much easier than reinventing an entire new category for ourselves—especially when that category is always changing! From my extemporaneous speaking experience, I know how difficult it can be to even invent a three-point solution to solving a global crisis; this is an exercise I go through several times a week. Imagine going through the same process—just substitute in identity—every time we thought about what we want or how we want to live our lives! Not only is it exhausting, but it can be demoralizing as well.

We think we fit in so much better by being classified. By being one thing and one thing only. But here’s my secret. I think it’s boring.

Boring is exhausting—and completely unnecessary. If we ease up just a little bit, the new freedom we give ourselves—the freedom not to be something but to be anything—the relief, the energy, and the pleasure that comes from it is infinitely rich and worth it.

So don’t be boring. I’m not boring—even if you think I am. I am varied. And the funniest part is that when I’m with boring people, I can’t help but wonder if they know how boring they are.

They are boring because they’ve boiled down their mien and their words and their clothing to mold into that mass-produced, dull, standard persona that we’ve accepted into our culture. You know them all. They are the geeks, the jocks, the socialistas, the humorists, the Hello Kitty fanatics, the music-maniacs, and the girly-girls. We’re all some mix of those qualities, but the boring ones try to make it seem like they’re just the one.

Here’s your secret: you aren’t boring.

Here’s everyone else’s secret: they’re afraid of the exhilarating, terrifying possibility of uncertainty in their identity—and they’ve turned to the boring, explained, well-versed, and expected classifications to give them a guiding path.

Here’s one more secret that I haven’t told anyone yet: if you let yourself go down this path, I can’t promise you’ll find that special combination of things that makes you you.

But I can promise that you will find something that’s real—even if it’s uncertainty. The best friendships we have transcend the bounds of any one category. Nothing, not even friendship, can last through the years without changing and being flexible because we change constantly. It might be too abstract for widespread appreciation, but I believe that we all have unlimited potential to look for our own selves and happinesses. To reverse an old saying, don’t be afraid to trade nothing for something.