Do not follow people you don’t wanna see! Hit that unfriend or unfollow button. Mute ’em on Twitter or hide ’em on Facebook. Love yourself.
I try to learn and remember the plethora of labels people have created and co-opted for themselves; in both gender identity and sexual orientation. But I admittedly do not have the patience. I’ve seen so many variations of terms that ultimately mean the same thing; with levels of specificity that completely convolute the point of labeling oneself in the first place.
How effective is a label if it does not easily convey what it is identifying?
Heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, and asexual (as it pertains to human sexuality) are labels that work because, of their simplicity. They lack specificity, but they convey the idea well enough for most people to understand. Once you add modifiers to those terms, you complicate them.
Labels are just simple terms we use to categorize ourselves and one another into easy to understand groups. But people rarely fall into a single group. So creating or expanding terms to try to encompass all your many variations — all the groups and subgroups you belong to — is just unnecessarily complicated. It does not make it easier to understand you.
I consider myself an extremely open-minded person and even I get overwhelmed by the vast amount of terminology that exists. People self-identify using new or adapted vocabulary, but the language is inconsistent. There is no general consensus that makes understanding these identities easier.
I am supportive of any individual who identifies as something other. I have always embraced the complexities of gender and sexuality. I self-identify as bi or pan because, those are simple enough labels for most people to understand. But I don’t believe my sexuality, or anyone else’s, can ever be summed up in a single word or phrase. I am who I am, I like what I like. I will label myself for the sake of clarity, but I in no way expect a label to ever accurately and fully encompass who I am.
We need to simplify the labels we use because, labels aren’t meant to fully encompass who we are.
Labels are too limiting. Instead of coming up with new terms to identify specific variations of something, like sexual preference, or gender, or “race” we should just stop putting so much emphasis on categorization. We all fall into an unlimited number of boxes and many of those overlap. Putting labels on our differences creates conflict where none need to be. I am not asking us not to see color, or gender identity, or any of the visual markers we use to classify or categorize people. I am asking not to be made to define myself with a bullet list of terms, and to learn a bullet list of terms for other people.
I am so fucking here for all of the body positivity and fat acceptance I’ve been seeing on my social media. I’m here for the embracing of rolls and stretch marks; the praising of big bellies, big thighs, and flabby arms. I love that people are showing love to big bodies and even more so, showing love to themselves. I love y’all and I’m proud of y’all.
That being said, I am not the acceptable kind of fat. If I lost weight, I would not be the attractive kind of thin. I am top-heavy. I have large breasts and a big belly. My hips are extremely narrow. My ass is hilariously flat. My thighs are large but my legs are skinny. I look like Michigan J. Frog. — It’s okay to laugh. I find it funny, too. I say none of this to illicit sympathy. You can send me any number of compliments and I will still believe that my body is ugly. Because, body positivity and fat acceptance still overwhelmingly exclude women with my body shape.
They always say “do what makes you happy,” but when I’m happy binge-watching entire shows Netflix and drinking caffeinated beverages all day; they won’t stop asking me “what are you going to do with your life?” So I guess the only answer that will satisfy them is, “not what makes me happy.” LOL.
I’m in this weird mental state where I can see everything falling apart around me, the ground crumbling beneath my feet, my entire world collapsing in on itself and I’m… fine. I’m good. Things are as bad as I can currently imagine them, but I’m either too numb or in some kind of shock. I can’t muster the energy to give a fuck. I feel concern but I don’t feel the crippling worry I usually do when shit gets bad. Where I’d normally be anxious and panicked, I’m just… fine. I’m not stressed, though I know I should be. I’m aware that everything is bad and getting worse, but I’m oddly calm. I’m more scared of my lack of worry than my actual, horrible state of existence. Have I reached peak apathy or is this shit building up, a floodgate waiting to be opened? I won’t dwell on it too much because, for the moment, I’m fine.