Taxonomophilia – A Queer Fetish

I was asked at a recent event, "How do you self-define?". It set in motion, these thoughts.

One, recognized, early development threshold in children is the "Adam insight". Sometimes it happens gradually, but frequently it is as if a switch has been thrown and suddenly the brain becomes wired differently.

The "Adam insight" is the point at which a child discovers that everything surrounding it has a name. No longer does she have to point and say, "Want it!" – She can now cry with authority, "Want Milk!", "Want Puppy" and so on.

It’s an exciting revelation for the individual. And since anyone who is reading this has, themselves, gone through this process, we can all feel the echo of the empowerment this gave us.

Early childhood is full of miscommunication. Parents don’t fully understand the gurgles that signal their child’s needs. And children, only cross the Adam threshold after experiencing frustration at not getting their needs met.

The wonderful ability to name a thing gives the namer the power to describe it; to categorize it; and, in some respects, gives control over it. Later in life, those of us who are wired differently (perhaps because of our gender or orientation) feel that same surge of childlike wonder when we discover that there is a name for "people like me".

The names don’t just provide a kind of social shorthand to describe the complexity of being ourselves, they have another function.

After kids learn to name things individually, they quickly learn how to name "bunches of things". Therefore, after "Mom" or "Dad", they learn that all tall people are "grown-ups" , all normal sized people are called "kids" and that all good tasting things are called "candy".

As adults, we carry this over and when we find the word that describes ourselves, we quickly infer that this means there are "bunches of people like us". The existence of a word that describes several "people like us" means that we are not alone. Which is comforting.

But what comforts the individual may afflict a community. There is a thin line between a shorthand to express identity and a label that promotes stereotypes.

In queer society, the convention is to categorize the queer universe as LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bi, Transsexual). There are those who argue that this, already unwieldy acronym, is not inclusive enough and should have more letters appended. And, there are other people who feel that the LGBT label casts too wide a net, and therefore, these people’s needs are diluted and under-represented.

The truth is that, while all humans have an obsession for naming things, queer humans run a special risk of it becoming a schizoid fetish.

Quite properly, when we come out, we learn to have pride in the thing that makes us "alternative". Whatever that special gift, difference or orientation might be, maturing as an individual relies on us coming to the realization that our "alternative" nature should be celebrated with pride, not hidden with shame.

While that pride may be similar among our peers (whoever they might be)…and although, at times, this pride may feel like a collective experience – Initially, just as in childhood, it is an individual and somewhat selfish experience. No one can come out for you, no one can force you to be proud of who you are – It can only stem from personal insight.

Like children, we come to this state of enlightenment by comparing ourselves to categories and labels that we personally establish. "I am like person A, but not like person B". And, as we organize the files in our head, we establish our relative position in the universe.

But as much as we develop as individuals, we are still comforted by the existence or the company of our brothers and sisters in arms. The strength to fuel our personal development comes, in no small part, from a sense of belonging.

These needs (individual growth, collective involvement) frequently contradict one another. When establishing ones relative position to the group which includes "People like Me", there are a couple of outcomes.

Firstly, in an effort to fit in, the person conforms to a group expectation. These expectations can be external, like clothing choice or other forms of personal expression. Or they can be more subtle, like attitudes to "People NOT like Us" or other belief models. This, by the way is not a "queer issue". It is inevitable that creating a group identity of "People like Us" creates a corollary group identity of "People like Them"

The second outcome is for people to try and get the group to conform to their own expectations. Difficult, if not impossible in large inclusive groups, it leads to the next outcome.

Subset groups. There’s nothing sinister about this, people will tend to bunch together in smaller and smaller groups with whom they feel a greater sense of affinity. As an example, left-handed gays have a slightly different set of needs to those who are right-handed. Why not have a subset group that accommodates the needs of those people who are gay and suffer from mancinism?

Why not, indeed? Of course, whether one approves of this or not, is quite irrelevant. People will by their very nature do it anyway. There’s nothing harmful in it unless…

Unless we fail to recognize that as we narrow down the focus of what constitutes "Us", we broaden the definition of what constitutes "Them". Unless we are constantly aware of our own capacity for intolerance, we run the very real risk of narrowly defining ourselves at the expense of broadly labeling someone else.

The question, "How do you self-define?" was kindly meant, and politically quite correct. But expressed slightly differently, it’s a bit like asking, "What label would you like?"

At the time a number of fairly catty and unkind responses crossed my mind. "I define myself as a domestic goddess with a low tolerance for stupidity." Or, "Unreconstructed, neo-pagan with homicidal tendencies" or, "Non-judgmental biker chick with a hatchback" are 3 things I definitely did not say

At the end of the day, I opted for the simplest response.

"How do I define myself? - Just like you"