I feel the urging of culture to put my life in order, to over-ride the reality of randomness and probability of it all. There is no certainty about me or any of us, but my fellow citizens want the comfort of order, the comfort of knowing where I fit in. It is upsetting for most of them if I attempt to blur the lines, to change the hard outlines into dashed lines.
My culture is constantly asking me “Are you married, divorced or single?” (“Are you spoken for, do you belong to someone, are you available”) My culture wants to know “Are you christian, jew or muslim?” ( “or are you one of those crazy other groups?”).
Surveys constantly ask me “Are you male or female?” (“Make a choice, there’s no opting out?”) I have to routinely answer “Are you white, black or hispanic?” (“So which caste do you belong to? How much respect do you deserve and get?”)
Many routine forms want me share “What is your level of income?” (“Are you with privilege or without privilege?”) I am asked to reveal “Which age group do you belong to?” ( “Are you young and vital or old and of little use?”)
All my life I have resisted my culture wanting to know where I fit. Maybe it is simply to keep things in order, maybe it is to comfort those who are nervous around uncertainty. I’m not immune to it all.
I am aware how I put all my screws, electrical plugs and many pieces of hardware in identical containers with labeled categories on accessible shelves. I know where each of these tiny items fits in my workroom. I get a measurable amount of comfort from that. I can more easily navigate the workroom and, in spite of the other chaos, find most of the things I am looking for.
I think my culture wants a similar level of comfort by imposing order on each of us, of wanting to know how I fit in. I’ve begun resisting this pressure in a small way by not checking the appropriate boxes. I no longer claim my right to privilege by declaring I am “white.” (“I’m, thank God, not one of those other groups.”)
My claimed religion has been easy since I think most religions no longer offer me inspiration or refuge. “None” or “other” is an honest and accurate declaration. I never have liked the defined institution of marriage, so I think single (unconnected) best identifies my singularity and individuality.
I am going to be checking a box for an income not my own. I’ve kind of liked being “male”, but since I really am somewhat androgynous in gender, I’ll probably check both options. For my age, I think it should be more than a calendar reference to how many years this body has been alive, and capable of use. A measure of mental age may be more appropriate, in my case much younger, and very much of use.
I know I’m not helping those who want to be comfortable and know how I fit in. But I don’t like their sense of order, and if they want to know about me they will have to come up with better forms.