老司机传媒

When I was younger, I used to be really into cardboard boxes. My dad would bring them home after getting a new chair for the office or buying a larger kitchen appliance. I believed I was much better suited for a box than the components of an office chair ever would be. Under my charge, it quickly became a regular living space–decorated with markers and paper and a sign that said “My Box” (you know–in case anybody else might try to steal it). You wanted snacks? I had snacks in that box. You wanted to sleep? I had the blankets. I mean, yes, it did get uncomfortable after a while. (You try spending the night with a 3-foot-long piece of cardboard as your mattress.) But still I lived in it. It was mine, and it made me feel safe.

Over the years, I have found that I’m not the only one who likes boxes. I have, during my relatively short time alive, come to the realization that everybody enjoys–in fact, seems to be quite obsessed with–boxes. Perhaps not so much the boxes themselves, as putting things into them; stuffing items and ideas and people into them like I stuffed blankets and pillows into my cardboard abodes, carefully packing each other into these precisely-crafted crates: you go in this box; you fit snugly into that one; you don’t belong in either box, but you do belong in that big one over there. We as humans are constantly categorizing, sorting, organizing. We put each other into boxes without seeing the whole picture–once we have a box for someone, that’s “their box” and they should dare not step out of it lest they be criticized and hated. We so often feel the need to label others–and by extension, especially now, a need to label ourselves.

This is a particularly relevant situation when it comes to the queer community. Over the years, more and more boxes–labels–have been created to encapsulate how people feel, who people are. Humans are always going to put each other in boxes–so if others are going to do it wrong, why not just do it ourselves to avoid the pain and confusion?

Today’s boxes are a little different than what they used to be, though: whereas historically, boxes were used as a mode of marginalizing and othering, they are now being used as a mode of empowerment. Being able to put a name to one’s gender identitiy or sexual orientation can be liberating. In these names, these boxes, individuals find identity–a safe space in which to be understood. People are finding the courage to share their labels, which can be extremely freeing.

The thing is, boxes can serve as a double-edged sword. While they can be empowering, the act of accepting them so freely can at times be detrimental: we sometimes become so fixated on living in our boxes that, instead of finding identity in them, we get lost in the labels. The boxes are no longer a way to express a part of who we are–instead, they become our very identity. The thing is, people have always been different, unique, and individual. But we now feel the need to define our differences. If we keep going, each person creating a box for themself, pretty soon we’ll have eight billion different boxes, eight billion different labels. And there is a difference between finding one’s identity and simply finding multiple boxes to live in.

Ideally, the world needs to come to a point where individuals don’t need boxes to feel safe–where they can be comfortable in who they are without feeling marginalized or discriminated against. But the world isn’t perfect. Asking for this would essentially be asking for world peace. (As I learned from “Miss Congeniality,” this is probably not possible.) So what can be done?

I think, with all developments that go anywhere, we as a Christian community need to start having more conversations. Though these discussions are quickly becoming a topic of mainstream media (see on gender pronouns in schools, The Times on as just a couple examples published within the last year), Christians don’t seem to have much of a say on this–especially Seventh-day Adventist Christians (other than some of Ted Wilson’s choice statements, as were eloquently covered in Alyssa’s article last semester). In a society where everyone seems to be constantly on edge, it can be scary to start conversations, much less voice one’s opinions. Still, these conversations need to be had. As a Seventh-day Adventist institution, we are primarily supposed to be followers of Christ. And what greater commandment did Christ give than to love? And how can we love if we don’t begin to understand the world around us and engage in important conversations?

On an individual level, we can start simply: by giving each other the understanding and compassion humans deserve. We wouldn’t need this growing abundance of boxes if we could just see each other as whole, complex, loved individuals. Every person is so much more than the label they identify as, than the box they live in.

The thing is, boxes get uncomfortable after a while. People don’t belong in boxes. Office chairs do. And only when we realize that will we be able to start to solve the problem of all these boxes.