Which one are you?

Labels and their usefulness

I have a question because I have no idea how relatable this experience is. Here goes:

When you were growing up, did you feel like you had a role in your family that was so identifiable that you were the _______ one? Like, you were the Smart one, the Pretty one, the Athletic one, the Whiny one.

Now that I think about it, I know this experience must be common, because it feels like I just described a sibling version of the Spice Girls. 😆

For as long as I can remember, I’ve known that my mother grew up being told she was the Pretty one. She was one of five siblings. Her brother was the Smart one. One of the things my mother is very proud of accomplishing is going to college. She has told me many times that in order to do it, she had to defy her family’s label, and insist to herself that she could be a smart one, too.

But even though she had had the experience of defying her label, she had a habit of labeling me. But since I’m an only child, I took turns being the _______ one. Sometimes I was the Pretty one; sometimes the Smart one. I was also defined by what I was not. For instance, I was never the Sporty one. I mostly avoided sports, especially team sports.

But one evening, a couple of weeks ago, I was playing catch in the backyard with my seven-year-old. He explained to me how to aim and how to throw harder. He is a very patient coach. My husband came outside and watched us. Later, he told me, “You’re pretty good. Why have you always said you’re bad at sports?”

This gave me pause. “Well, I’m slow. I always, always lost in foot races at recess, didn’t matter who I was racing.”

“Yeah,” he said. “But you can throw. And you have pretty good hand-eye coordination.”

That weekend, I watched my sons play in their no-cut rec baseball league, and plenty of the kids are slow. Some of them can’t catch. Some can’t throw. Some kids can do these things, but not consistently. But none of them have turned their deficits into an identity, like I did. They all joined the team. They all seem to have fun.

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I have a suspicion that learning to label ourselves in these ways as kids comes from something very old, and very protective. Maybe several generations ago, parents needed their children to play roles for their survival. For example, one of their daughters needed to be the pretty one, so she could attract a husband and secure not just her future, but the future of her whole family. (This is the drama that plays out in Price and Prejudice. And it’s also the B-plot for the pretty sister in the Disney movie “Encanto.”)

I bring it up because I’m interested in how certain ways of parenting that, a few generations ago, were necessary or useful, or maybe even protective, now feel constricting, and even harmful in our current time, place, and culture. Also, this kind of labeling seems related to some estranged people’s experiences of feeling like the “black sheep” or the “golden child” of their family. The Bad one. The Good one.

I hesitated to play catch with my son because I believed I was terrible at sports. In the end, what we believe about ourselves doesn’t matter as much as the actions we take. Maybe my mother continued to believed she was the Pretty one, but she still graduated college, earned an MBA, and ran a business. Maybe a part of me still believes I’m not the Athletic one.

The important thing is I picked up a ball and a glove and followed my son outside to play catch anyway.

Tell me in the comments: did you feel pressure as a child to assume an identity, or to make something you were good at (or bad at) a cornerstone of your identity?