For nearly my entire twenty years of life, I have relied on labeling others. When I was in high school, I learned about the Myers-Briggs personality types, and I became obsessed. I began to categorize everyone based on their personality and characteristics. Today, I keep everyone I know in a tight, little box, and when those boxes break, I start to fall apart.
It is quite easy and even fun to box others in. First, one studies and observes a person until a conclusion can be made. Next, one puts a label on the person. This label is based on personality, quirks, hobbies, major, occupation, etc. Once one has adequately categorized someone, that person is now eternally trapped in a box, where all of their words, thoughts, and actions can be moderated …show more content…
This novella showed me the true cost of studying and labeling others. I will not spoil the story for anyone who desires to read it, but throughout the novella, James shows how humans categorize others and how that is very unhealthy and cruel. Winterbourne tries to put Daisy in a box; Daisy tries to put him in a box. Society also studies and categorizes Daisy. I, as a reader, labeled each character to specific type or personality, and James labels me and all his readers by assuming that all human beings are obsessive labelers. In the end, it is revealed that no one truly understood Daisy because people spent too much time trying to figure her out and put her in a box, rather than actually striving to get to know her, the real Daisy …show more content…
If I cannot categorize someone, I cannot organize them into my life; that terrifies me, to be frank. Yes, the truth sets you free, but it releases you into a chaotic, unpredictable world, and I do not know quite how to handle the truth at this moment in time.
Every day, another box of mine starts to fall apart as the people in my life continue to evolve and surprise me. I have no way of stopping people from stepping outside of the boundaries that my mind has set for them, and I should not try to stop them; that would be a ruthless thing for me to attempt. I could never live with myself if I prevented someone from becoming the person they were meant to be just for the sake of my own comfort and worldview.
I feel like a scientist sometimes. I study and observe humans like specimens. I label them and expect them to stay within that label, yet they never do. I despise this trait about myself. When I categorize people, I limit them; I dehumanize them. I hate feeling limited, and I am ashamed that I limit others with my compulsive need for labels. How dare I consider another human being less than a human being because of the imaginary boxes I keep on my
It is quite easy and even fun to box others in. First, one studies and observes a person until a conclusion can be made. Next, one puts a label on the person. This label is based on personality, quirks, hobbies, major, occupation, etc. Once one has adequately categorized someone, that person is now eternally trapped in a box, where all of their words, thoughts, and actions can be moderated …show more content…
This novella showed me the true cost of studying and labeling others. I will not spoil the story for anyone who desires to read it, but throughout the novella, James shows how humans categorize others and how that is very unhealthy and cruel. Winterbourne tries to put Daisy in a box; Daisy tries to put him in a box. Society also studies and categorizes Daisy. I, as a reader, labeled each character to specific type or personality, and James labels me and all his readers by assuming that all human beings are obsessive labelers. In the end, it is revealed that no one truly understood Daisy because people spent too much time trying to figure her out and put her in a box, rather than actually striving to get to know her, the real Daisy …show more content…
If I cannot categorize someone, I cannot organize them into my life; that terrifies me, to be frank. Yes, the truth sets you free, but it releases you into a chaotic, unpredictable world, and I do not know quite how to handle the truth at this moment in time.
Every day, another box of mine starts to fall apart as the people in my life continue to evolve and surprise me. I have no way of stopping people from stepping outside of the boundaries that my mind has set for them, and I should not try to stop them; that would be a ruthless thing for me to attempt. I could never live with myself if I prevented someone from becoming the person they were meant to be just for the sake of my own comfort and worldview.
I feel like a scientist sometimes. I study and observe humans like specimens. I label them and expect them to stay within that label, yet they never do. I despise this trait about myself. When I categorize people, I limit them; I dehumanize them. I hate feeling limited, and I am ashamed that I limit others with my compulsive need for labels. How dare I consider another human being less than a human being because of the imaginary boxes I keep on my