I think about this a lot, but after coming back from a bar association event discussing diversity, I read this post from ModlyChic and thought that I should write it down.
First of all, I agree with Katy that we are much more than labels; we are, first and foremost, just people. Doesn’t matter if the label is positive and self-selected, neutral and descriptive, or downright negative. Nonetheless, there’s no denying that people heavily rely on labels in everyday life, for all kinds of reasons — and these labels come to the forefront in diversity discussions.
I’ll leave my own general thoughts on diversity in the workplace for another day. (Don’t worry, I think diversity is a great thing! I just don’t necessarily agree with certain ways in which it is defined, discussed, and sought after). Instead, let’s talk about identity. My identity.
I’m entering a profession that has traditionally been dominated by white males, so it’s perfectly understandable that a) the local bar association hosted a diversity panel and b) at the panel, someone asked if the panelists thought about their own most “distinguishing” (for lack of a better word) characteristic every day in the workplace. Did their environment remind them every day that they were black? Homosexual? A woman? And as the panelists shared their experience, I couldn’t help noticing how many females in the crowd were nodding in agreement.
I simply could not relate. By virtue of being a white female in America, I haven’t been the victim of discrimination, but I’m no stranger to feeling like I’m in the minority: in various social settings and situations, I’ve been “the young one,” “the white one,” and “the foreign one,” and even though my “otherness” wasn’t necessarily to my detriment, I was nonetheless painfully aware of it. However, that occasional feeling of being “the other” has never, ever been tied up with my gender identity — or rather, my lack thereof. I work at an office that’s heavily male-dominated. I took advanced math courses where females are as rare as albino tigers. I’ve been the only female in my social circles (shout out to my laser tag buddies!). Yet I’ve never felt like “the woman.”
If I had to jot down a list of labels that identify me, “human” would undoubtedly be the first word. Other things, in no particular order, may include: “student,” “daughter,” “friend,” “significant other,” “lover of penguins,” “future attorney,” “notoriously bad dancer,” etc. Someday I’ll probably add things like “wife” and “mother” to the list. Now, some of those words indicate my gender by virtue of being gender-specific terms. However, never in my life would I identify myself as a “woman,” “female,” “girl,” what have you.
Am I a female? Last time I checked, yes. Do I embrace my femininity by wearing skirts, heels, and makeup? You bet. (Whether those things should be associated with femininity in the first place is a question for another day.) But would I ever participate in something that expressly has the label “women’s” tacked on? Women’s bar associations? Women’s bike clubs? Women’s volunteer groups? No. Whereas many of my friends and classmates find women-specific groups to be liberating and empowering, I find them to be restricting and limiting. I am a future lawyer, a lifestyle cyclist, and a volunteer — not the female version of those things.
Anyone else ever feel that way?
