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Poolboy, Tags, and Labels

2 Apr

A running (and perhaps somewhat childish) inside joke in my inner circle of Madison friends involves no more than a scripted, indignantly delivered one-liner: “Why do you always have to label me?” Other variations include “Why do you have to label everyone?” or “What’s up with you and your categories?”

It started with “Poolboy,” who earned his nickname in part with his handiness and helpfulness, but mostly, to be sure, on account of his appearance. Poolboy rolls with lots of different folks, including his young, cute, and clever kids, and a large, diverse group of friends and family. Perceptions of Poolboy vary remarkably from person to person and situation to situation, and he’s well aware of this phenomenon. So frequently it’s surreal, he’s asked oddly personal questions by strangers and acquaintances alike.

“Are you gay? But don’t you have kids? and wasn’t there a girlfriend?” he might get asked in the local gay bar.

Then there’s the just-as-frequent line of questioning: “You’re straight? But the purple hair!” someone will ask when they notice his lingering glance at a physically attractive woman I somehow failed to notice. (The hair, I’ve observed, is a conveniently mentionable symbol for any confidently expressed flamboyant mannerisms that usually go unmentioned.)

Generally, acquaintances feel forced to conclude, usually in a whisper, that “he must be bi.” All this unnecessary–and to him, pointless– speculation gets to be a little much for Poolboy. If pressed, he’d probably admit that his resistance to these categories is partially a political response. Mostly, though, the questions just annoy him. “I’m a doer, not a labeler. Can’t I just be ‘Poolboy’?”

Of course, without labels we’d have no language; without categories, education as we know it would be impossible. (We might, however, pay more attention to which sorts of words make for the best labels, describing processes, not things.) Moreover, many of us feel that gay (somewhat more so than lesbian) politics is based in the knowledge that people are born gay, and so “gay” must be a category.

In academic circles, there’s a push to embrace more and more narrowly defined labels as we specialize in ever smaller areas of expertise. I will admit to consciously resisting this trend in my own scholarly and pedagogical endeavors. But there’s no denying that labels–some helpful, many meaningless–are at the heart of “music analysis,” whose apparently jealous sibling discipline, “music theory,” constantly strives to label bigger and better systems.

Academic careers can be built on the coining of a new term or theory, especially once people adopt and/or reproduce it. This might not be a musically sensitive process, but it’s power. After all, academics are capitalists, too; especially, so it sometimes seems, when they claim not to be.

Admittedly, in talking about labels and categories we could be talking about any cultural phenomenon. Think: advertising and political demographics, like “Soccer Moms,” “Nascar Dads,” “Green-collar workers,” and “Obamicans.” How many tags–or should I say labels?–should I affix to this post? and why?

Poolboy, I think, is right to resist. Sure, the rest of us initially teased him, throwing what we first heard as trivial protest back at him. Now, though, questions like “Why do you have to label her a ‘bartender’?” have become a way of poking fun at each other while embracing the absurd. The childlike banter has evolved beyond the “your mom” joke into surprisingly sophisticated real-life sketch comedy.

A lot of power lies with those who frame a debate. We can, however, challenge and teach the debate framers, and refuse to answer with a simple, confirming or denying “yes” or “no.” We’re better off reformulating those questions that serve no purpose other than to divide us.

Poolboy reminds us that we can fight the power by playing around it.

A Visit

13 Mar

A good friend–and that’s the understatement of the year– is coming to visit next week. The 2+ years we’ve gone without seeing each other is a new record, and one I’m slightly troubled by, if only because it means we’re getting to that age where things move so fast we begin to ignore those “bff” pledges from way back when. Like me, he has one foot in popular culture and one in academia. And each of those two feet has its own one smaller foot in something and another in something else. It was with him that I learned to embrace everything, and to criticize it, too.
The timing of his visit couldn’t be better. It’s the first time in my life that I’ve come to find the weight of infinite open-mindedness unbearable. No, I don’t mean I’m questioning relativism. That was never an issue: being open to everything never meant avoiding making judgments of value. I am, however, reluctantly beginning to accept that most people settle down into a style, a career, a belief, a property, a spouse, a pattern. And they’ll try to box you in, too. Regardless if they succeed, they’ll nonetheless ultimately box you out. Not this friend, though. I can’t wait to reconnect.

I first heard “Obama” four years ago this month.

6 Mar

It was March 2004. Spain dealt with the Madrid bombings by electing a government that would meet the Spanish public’s new taste for vegetarian restaurants, and raise it with a vote for marriage equality. In Wisconsin, meanwhile, we were throwing displeased glances from the gallery onto the State Senate floor, while they were passing the “constitutional” amendment to define marriage as between “one man and one woman,” although I should mention they never specified which one man and which one woman. My hopes at the national level had also been shot, with Wesley Clark waiting until his Madison campaign stop to announce he was endorsing John Kerry and abandoning the presidential bid I’d volunteered for.

Driving through Chicago I heard the radio news: someone named Obama had just stunned the political establishment by winning the Democratic nomination to the United States Senate. I’d heard he was the most progressive of the bunch–and black–both of which bolstered my optimism that the rotting Republican stagnation that had afflicted the Midwest might be hitting bottom. I put him out of my mind until the famous 2004 Democratic Convention keynote speech. As beautiful as it was, all I remember is that he said the word “gay” in a non-pejorative context. I was hooked, and kept paying attention.

Some of my better friends have expressed fear that this guy, like every other politician before him, will be exposed as a “liar.” Or that he doesn’t know how things work, what sort of back-room negotiations go into getting things done. Well, I don’t know Obama, but I sure know his background. He’s not who the establishment wants us to elect. But that doesn’t mean he’s not the best choice to run things.

Below, his sister lets us in on his background. It’s not exactly familiar from watching “liberal” MSNBC.

Here, his University of Chicago Law School colleague hints at how Obama might manage the county.

Oh yes we still will.

5 Mar

With each (infrequent) loss, Barack has refused to return to the old-fashioned politics of divisiveness. He reaches out, comforts, and inspires again. Just words? The Clintons tell us they’ll bring actual change, not just words. We must remember that, in the end, those are just words. Whether or not they are good speakers–and I think they both are–the Clintons choose not to motivate us to come together to fundamentally restructure how we do politics in America.They choose to redraw old battle lines for the sake of fighting one narrow victory after another. It’s this sort of politics-as-usual that can only lead to a violently repressive backlash. Remember what followed eight years of Clinton? Eight years of GW Bush? Let’s move on, people! Don’t let them steal it at our convention. Let’s win Pennsylvania. We can do it. Don’t let them tear us apart. These next six weeks are how we’ll beat McCain. To hell with the politics of victimization! Let’s win this thang!

Update: 3/5 2:23 pm. With most delegates decided, it looks like Hillary’s “big” wins have netted her an approximately four-delegate gain. Yep, it’s not even close.