Through the years I have been given many labels. Some of which have been me, yet not quite me at the same time. Some have evolved over the years, and some were way off base. The label you give me depends on the side of me you see, the context in which you see me. I can be opposing things at the same time. We all can, and usually are.

Slut: It took some time to take ownership of this label. I recall being called a slut when I was a 14yo virgin who had only had one boyfriend. I wasn’t a slut then but just the memory of the comment, knowing it was meant in a derogatory manner and how it made me feel, it stuck with me for a very long time. Now I’ll gladly wear that label. I do enjoy sex and I have had many partners, and that is okay.

Victim: I was a victim of rape. It is something that happened to me as a young woman, but it isn’t something that defines me. Aside from those who have read about it here in my blog, very few people even know it happened.

Some would call me a victim after being cheated on, or a victim of downsizing after getting laid off from a job. Being cheated on didn’t make me a victim. He was a victim of his own arrogance and narcissism, I was the love he lost because of that. Losing my job didn’t make me a victim either. I was merely a casualty of the process who then moved on to other things.

Submissive: I am submissive. I am a feisty submissive for sure, but not a brat or a little. Some have called me a bottom, and there have been times I have bottomed for demonstration purposes, but those demonstrations were with people who weren’t my Dom. Being submissive does not mean I have to submit to everyone I meet. And even in relationships, if my partner isn’t dominant, or at least my Dom, I am not then their submissive. My natural relationship tendencies show my submissive nature but I do not have to submit simply because I am submissive.

I have been known to switch but it is rare I find a partner I can switch with because even though I may be taking on a top or dominant role, I am still submissive to that partner. This is not the case for everyone, likely not for most people I would guess, but for me switching is more role play than an identifier.

Serial Monogamist: Many moons ago my cousin called me a serial monogamist. At the time I thought, yes, this is me. I hadn’t dated a lot of people, but when I was dating someone I was devoted to them. I am still very much that way. I practiced monogamy because I was told that was the “right” thing to do. I knew it wasn’t exactly right for me, but I also knew I wasn’t a cheater and had not yet heard of polyamory. It was not until I had gone through three failed engagements that the idea of polyamory was presented to me. All of a sudden things made sense.

I did try to talk to my last fiancé about the possibility of us having relationships with other people while maintaining our own relationship as the primary one, not knowing even what that was called or what it would look like at the time. I knew though that there had to be a way we could both have other relationships in an open and honest manner. He would have none of it. He was of the mind that he could cheat and have as many sexual partners as he desired but that I was not allowed to do the same. He thought I should be the wife that kept the home and stayed faithful to him, happy with the time he gave to me. That was a hard no from me.

Blogger: I have had a blog for nearly eight years now. Have I blogged consistently over all those years? No, definitely not. I had 174 posts during my first full year of blogging compared to just 42 over the past four years. That’s less than one post a month. I know it’s an ebb and flow thing, but more flow would be nice. One can hardly be called a blogger when they publish just 4 posts in a year. What the heck happened 2019? 

I think my lack of happiness blocked my creativity somehow. Being happy fuels me to do more things I love, and doing things I love brings me more happiness. It is a wonderful thing when it works. I still wrote some, but writing policies and training manuals aren’t that creative and don’t trip the happiness switch that writing for myself does. I am glad to be focusing on myself more now and that doing so is translating to being a happier person and writing more.

There are many more labels that describe me and bring far less discussion or contradiction than those above. Mother. Daughter. Sister. Twin. She. Her. Neighbour. Boss. Creator. Teacher. Healer. Friend. Still, aside from victim I would proudly wear them all. Even serial monogamist isn’t completely wrong. Maybe I will figure out a more suitable label to replace that one some day.

I often see people adamantly declaring that they don’t like labels, they don’t like being labeled, or they are “more than just a label”. I get that, I do. It can be difficult when somebody gives us a label we don’t like, or that makes us feel pigeonholed. We do tend to categorize and organize things though, often without even realizing. We categorize our acquaintances as friends, co-workers, friends of friends, school mates, neighbours, and what not. We then either like them, don’t like them, or are indifferent. It may not be a conscious thing, but we all do it to some extent.

What labels do you proudly wear?