Defying Your Category

Or why fish don’t exist

Or Closer to a Cloud than a Checklist

Another anecdote: I used to love taking personality tests. Myers Briggs, Love Language, IQ, and any other quiz I could find through the internet. To me, there was something magical about being able to fill out a questionnaire and feel like something was known about me. It was a little like reading a horoscope — Oh, yes that’s totally true or No way, this is completely inaccurate. And that knowingness made me feel safe. When I wasn’t sure who I was growing up to be, it felt reassuring that I could just answer a few questions and let the computer tell me what I was going to be like. There’s safety in the known and the classifiable. 

While I’ve grown out of my interest in personality tests, I have an ongoing emotional battle with categorizing myself/my work/my purpose. Am I “professional dancer”? Am I a “choreographer”? A “marketing professional”? a “videographer”? “Filmmaker”? “Writer”? Despite having my hands (and feet, and body) in all of these pools pretty regularly, I constantly feel like what I’m doing isn’t what a real person who does these things looks like. Why?

Letting Go of Our Definitions

I recently finished reading Why Fish Don’t Exist, a non-fiction book by NPR science journalist Lulu Miller. I’ll spare you the book report, but the ultimate take away is that ‘Fish’ as a category of creatures, does not exist (as evidenced by the title), and classifying a whole group of organisms based solely on their underwater living environment actually isn’t useful in mapping how species are inter-related. It would be like saying all people that live in grey houses are related. Sure, they may happen to share some characteristics, but that commonality is more happenstance, than an indication of actual relationship. 

The real reason to bring up the book, in addition to it dealing so heavily with classification, is the fact of what happens when we realize that the system of categorization that we’ve been using is wrong; that an entire body of knowledge has been based on something that isn’t correct; that our whole world view has been informed by a lens that has a crack in it; that our entire image of ourselves has been through a fun house mirror. What happens when we realize?

Some choose to ignore the newfound insight: Continue as if everything is the same.
Some are paralyzed: What do I do now?
Some are freed: Now I can do anything!

I don’t have a greater moral to impart, just a curiosity about definitions, the arbitrary lines we’re drawing around ourselves, and how our perception of who we are/what we do might impact the way that we conduct ourselves in life. What would happen if we let go of the most limiting category we place ourself in?

No doubt, it can be scary to do this, but there’s something to be gained from examining these fears. Part of it, I think, is that if we identify as something, and fail to live up to the expectations that come with that identity, what will happen? The answer, most of the time, is nothing! Disappointment, maybe. Confusion, sure. A challenge to clearly articulate the direction of your life’s work to your distant relative at the family reunion, ok yes, definitely. 

On Dancing

One of the things that I love (and somedays loathe) about teaching modern dance is the loose-ness around codified “steps” to teach. Of course, there’s historical figures of modern dance that have techniques they’ve developed alongside a series of exercises. But there’s definitely not a universal collection of basic “steps”. As a teacher, this freedom is sometimes paralyzing and exhausting — what bit of madness am I going to try and impart as dance today? And realizing that you’re the one to shape someone’s perception of dance is a bit scary. What if I teach them something wrong? What if they don’t like it and hate dance forever? That is the risk I signed up for as a teacher, and it’s so so worth it, even when I have new students try a class and never return.

So, I guess the takeaway is this: Nothing is certain except that sometimes you will fail. You will be wrong. You will have your worldview skewed by one seemingly innocuous comment that gets stuck in your brain (for better or worse). But that’s the beauty of life. Our ability to change our mind, to see beyond, to imagine things that aren’t yet real and bring them into being. So keep being expansive. Keep being messy. Keep trying things, and failing, and changing course until you find the thing that feels right.