I frequently hear various people complain about labeling. We shouldn’t label people, they tell me. But labeling is essential. Language wouldn’t function without labels.
For example, sitting right next to me as I write this is a cat. I label him “cat” and I tell you he’s a cat, and we communicated. Behold, the cat, also named, labeled, that is, Li’l Mo.
Thus the label is useful. None of you are shocked at the picture after being told it would be that of a cat.
But …
A Tale of Two Cats
Now behold two cats.
The cat with longer fur is Cheena. In this video, which was taken only a couple years before Cheena crossed over the rainbow bridge at 16 years of age, Li’l Mo is about 6 months old.
I credit Li’l Mo with extending Cheena’s life by perhaps a year because she seemed to gain new energy with him around. She mothered him, in the way a crotchety old aunt might, not too clingy, but playing with him and occasionally putting him in his place. As long as she was alive, she remained the dominant cat.
So we have two animals labeled cats, one labeled Li’l Mo, and one labeled Cheena.
Where Labels Cause Problems
I have repeatedly noticed something interesting when I describe these two cats. I love both. I remember Cheena fondly and frequently.
Cheena was very set in her ways. She would spend her time sleeping on the bed, specifically on my side. She didn’t want a lot of attention but about once a week she’d spend an hour or so on my lap. She adored having her hair brushed every night. She was picky about her food. She was dignified, and would take what I called “princess strolls” through the house, head high, looking left and right, making sure everything was in order.
She also hated the vacuum cleaner, and would hide at the opposite end of the house when I brought it out. As most animals do, she hated the vet, but unlike any other cat I’ve had, she was very sweet about it. I remember after I picked her up from surgery after her foot got infected (Li’l Mo bit it!), the vet offered me a carrier box as they saw I hadn’t brought one with me. “No,” I said, “I don’t need it.” A couple of members of the staff followed me and watched as I carried her across a waiting room filled with dogs and a few other cats while she just hung out against my shoulder. Not a peep or a wiggle.
Cheena was generally unconcerned with the activities of the humans as long as she got dinner on time and found me in my chair where she could sit on my lap.
When I tell people about Cheena, they often say, “Well, she was a cat.”
Mo, on the other hand flies around the house like a mad cat. Princely strolls are only occasional and generally short. He also hates the vet, but I wouldn’t even think of taking him there without a carrier. Oddly, he’s totally cooperative with the staff, and totally uncooperative the entire rest of the time. He’s unafraid of the vacuum cleaner. If he deigns to notice it at all it’s to chase it and pounce on it. He has no concept of riding peacefully on my shoulder. He is deeply concerned about his food being on time.
When I tell people about Li’l Mo, they often say, “Well, he’s a cat!”
And therein lies the problem, though it’s usually not an issue with cats. It’s not important, except to me regarding my cats, and perhaps to the cats, that people notice their individuality. But in many other cases, it very much does matter.
A Personal Example
A friend of mine for some years never conducted what I would regard as a complete conversation. Whether the issue was religious, political, or even how to accomplish some task, he would jump in when I was half-way through explaining my position and say, “Yes, I understand completely.” He would then carry on the conversation in a way that made it clear to me that he had checked off my view as matching some compartment he had created in his mind, and I was stuck in that compartment. Discussion would die.
I found this very frustrating, as he was a person with interesting ideas and I would have enjoyed exploring our differences more seriously. But once I was placed in the compartment, the discussion was over. He never appeared to be thinking of me negatively. He’d usually put me in a compartment that was agreeable to him., but it was still frustrating.
Lazy Labeling
And that is the problem with labeling. Not the use of labels in itself, but refusing to use accurate, or at least carefully chosen labels. This doesn’t mean we can’t use general labels. Cheena and Li’l Mo are (or were) indeed cats. They’re also individuals.
My views might generally fall into a category chosen, but they might also differ in important ways.
Make the Effort
In relationships and discussions of ideas, be willing to do the work of understanding and labeling accurately. Your life will be enriched for the effort.
