What's in a Name, or "Language is Power"

What’s in a name? You can’t judge a book by its cover. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Beauty is only skin deep.

These are obviously clichés that quickly come to mind regarding labels, stereotypes, and other broad umbrella statements. The general idea, of course, is that looking at the exterior rarely offers an adequate view of what’s inside. Sounds reasonable, right? Fair, even? To suggest that we go further when appraising people seems like a rational proposition, if not downright necessary.

How about, “If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, chances are it’s a duck,” to nip a quick paraphrase? Sort of an opposite take, right? Suggests that what’s on the outside is accurate, doesn’t it?

And so goes the gay conundrum when it comes to the brand name. How to package homos to the rest of the world. To each other. To ourselves. This little dilemma rears its head every few years among gay politicos, and I find great amusement in watching the power-hungry quibble over social marketing. It also confirms my suspicions that most activists are in the game for themselves, not for those they claim to represent. The hate that exists within the gay world betrays its united front, which is a topic that could fill a dozen columns.

Words are funny animals. They carry a good deal of connotative muscle - of emotional impact - yet most people consider them literal symbols for things or ideas or concepts. But how about the proposition that words can actually create reality? That they don’t describe nearly so much as they conjure?

Realtors sell houses, not homes. But they use the word “home” because it induces a warm, happy feeling that makes the client more inclined to buy. The pro-abortion crowd calls itself “pro-choice” because it is far easier to side with the notion of choosing than it is to deal with the reality of fiddling with nascent life. It is much preferable to think of your kid as having a “learning disorder” rather than confess that he’s just plain stupid.

So, are we gay? Queer? Homosexual? Faggots? Fairies? Fruitcakes? How about the female counterpart? Lesbian? Dyke? Feminist? Butch?

I don’t care.

Many people do care, however, and I’ll tell you why: Because if you can tell others what words they can and cannot use, you’ve got a lot of clout. You wield power. You not only control language, but you control thought. We think in language. A thought doesn’t pop into our brains in some vague, ill-defined form; it takes the shape of language as part of its conception, long before it is ever verbalized to another. Or to the self.

You may argue, “Hey, dinglefritz, don’t tell me you don’t want to persuade others. That’s why you write this crap. You’re trying to influence people.” True, I am. But the difference is that I wish to do so by offering good arguments that support my assertions. I want people to re-think their position because I’ve presented credible evidence and valid examples. I’m up front about it.

But those who play the PC language game don’t want you to realize their goal is to change the way you view the world. They want you to think that you’re noble and righteous because you use certain words and refuse to use others, when what’s really happened is they’ve adjusted your opinion for you by dictating what’s off limits and what’s not. And, ideally, you will then use these words with countless others, thus exponentially spreading their version of what they want everyone to believe.

Loving another of the same gender is but one small slice of the personality pie to begin with, so why is it so important that we adopt a label? Doesn’t it follow that said label pigeonholes people and forces them into a prescribed pocket? Does it not alter the way you’re perceived, as well as the way you perceive yourself? If you simply must define your human entirety by your romantic desires, have at it. But don’t come bitching to me when others think of you only in those terms.

It should be water off a duck’s back, but you’ve gone and thrown out the baby with the bathwater. You made your bed. And lying in it is often the bitterest of pillows, if you can swallow such a convoluted analogy.