Strange Bird. That's definitely one of my favorite. I don't think I was ever called this, but I would bow and thank you to anyone who calls me that.
Misfit. Here's the thing with this one: it is kind of a compliment. If you were born after the '60s, then you grew up believing being a misfit is cool. It has a James Dean flair– and a Marilyn Monroe and Arthur Miller intrinsic heritage in it. And of course, Apple made it iconic with the Think Different Manifesto ad. The same goes for Maverick too. After that commercial, words like Misfit and Maverick became part of the rebel vernacular. To me, they all sound like something you could hear on an Apple or Levi's commercial. It's very 80s.
Oddball sounds like screwball and my head always go to Lucille Ball– don't ask me why. But I appreciate an Oddball; it doesn't offend me at all.
Character. Some may say it's like a euphemism, but, frankly, I say it's a dig. I'm sure I have been called a character hundreds of times. Probably as many times as I called others too. It isn't offensive, but it has no eland, which is kind of offensive to people who are considered different. When I call someone a character, I'm looking down at them. But when it's the other way round, I simply ignore it.
Crackpot, Nut, Nutcase, Nutter. These sound so old school that I'm skipping them all.
Bohemian, Nonconformist, Individualist, Unorthodox Person– they are delightfully sophisticated. Aside from Individualist – for obvious reasons – I can't imagine not trying to be like the others.
Eccentric. I have mixed feelings about it. I think when they are young, we call them "cool" or "unconventional." However, when they are older, we just call them "eccentric." That doesn't vibe well with me, but I would prefer to be considered an eccentric over conventional at any stage of my life.
Freak. Definitely another favorite. It falls in the Sex Box, just like Deviant or Pervert. Honestly, I think I'm too vanilla to be a Deviant, and I might lack enough panache to carry the pervert label properly. However, I'm proud to be a Freak, and I have been called it many times. Also, Loony – which always makes me think of Looney Tunes – and a Weirdo. Weirdo is like my middle name at this point.
And finally, there is Queer. I'm so proud to be queer and humbled to be part of the queer legion. Queer is my badge of honor.
In the end, these are only words; however, words carry weight, and sometimes, what we hear from others makes it harder for us to find our true selves.
Name-calling is probably as old as non-verbal communication. Primitive humans probably said it all with grunts and grimaces. But an expression of disgust can be way less poisonous than labeling someone. A label can last longer, sometimes a lifetime; it can stick to your skin like invisible ink. Others might not see it, but you know it's there, every moment defining and limiting you. But we can learn to shift the meaning of words to take control of our own narrative. So to survive it, one got to know how to flip it.
And when a group of people flips a word's meaning, it triggers a shift that ultimately can change a community. When we recognize we share with others the same attributes, idiosyncrasies, and challenges, we feel less lonely and singled out. In addition, it boosts our self-confidence, enabling us to come out in the open without the fear of being ourselves. Remember, "we are here, we are queer, get used to it"? This motto opened the gates for queer people everywhere to gain visibility and claim their space in society.
But as we flip those labels and get absorbed by mainstream society, they can also end up boxing us. Labeling is reductive by definition– once you've been tagged something, other people's perceptions about you will be dictated by the box they believe you belong to.
But here's the catch, if you ever felt like being the odd one out, feeling boxed is something you might not feel comfortable with. Some long to belong or be part of something – and becoming part of a group gives relief and empowers their identity. However, for other people, being the odd one out is what defines their personality; therefore, being put inside a box is simply torture. Personally, every time it happens to me, I feel like yelling from the top of my lungs: Just don't box me! So, even among those who feel like the odd one out, some feel odder and outer than others.
It took me a long time to learn to embrace derogatory terms and turned them into self-empowering words. To shift their meaning to express who we really are, I realized that we must own them proudly first. It doesn't hurt me anymore if someone calls me a weirdo or freak. Instead, it is a relief because it saves me the time of an introduction.
When all is said and done, these are only words, and we are much than that. You can call me by name.