A rose by any other name…

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” ~William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene II

Names and labels. Shakespeare’s Juliet spoke the words that opened this post to Romeo, who just happened to have the “wrong” last name. He’s a “Montague,” not a “Capulet.” Yet she argues that names of things or people do not affect what or who they are. Romeo is Romeo, regardless of his last name.

Who am I to challenge dear Juliet, let alone Shakespeare, but I do believe names and labels that we are given and we embrace do affect our concept of who we are. But labels define just part of a person’s story. Labels are names given to things and people to create cognitive (and societal) order by categorizing things that are “similar,” and, consequently, “different.” Learning this process begins early in our childhood. Think about the Sesame Street song, “One of These Things.” The lyrics below say it all:

“One of these things is not like the others,
One of these things just doesn’t belong,
Can you tell which thing is not like the others
By the time I finish my song?”

In my teaching, I have seen the effect of labels on students’ progress toward achievement, identity, learning agency, and confidence. A student who is told that she/he is “lazy,” “slow,” “autistic,” “gifted,” “cooperative,” or “underprivileged” tends to live up to the potential expectations that society attaches to the labels. This indoctrination leads to students’ self-fulfilling prophecy for better, and often, for worse. In our collegiate music teaching methods courses, we discuss the difference between saying, “This child is learning disabled” and “This is a child with learning disabilities.” The first statement implies that the whole child is “learning disabled.” Contrarily, the second statement implies that there is a portion or some facet of the child’s being that is described as “learning disabled.”

In my last post (“They’re not there because they cheated on a math test”), I mentioned that I had difficulty facing the labels that had been given to my potential Oberlin Music at Grafton (OMAG) prison choir members. “Murderer,” “rapist,” “robber,” “assaulter,” “child corruptor” are just some of the labels attached to the singers. Juliet would suggest that you call them what you want, but the descriptor (label) doesn’t affect the person. Doesn’t it? The more one hears a name or a fact (correct or incorrect), the more people believe it to be the truth. If one is called a “robber,” one might assume that the label is the whole of her/his identity, thus perpetuating undesirable behaviors and thought patterns associated with the word, “robber.” How does one envision and subsequently create the “best possible self,” if that “best possible self” contradicts the label determined by the penal system?

The first time I heard the word, “resident,” referring to the incarcerated people at the Grafton Reintegration Center (GRC), I thought, “Oh, it’s prosocial to refer to the men as ‘residents’.” I had only ever known incarcerated people to be called prisoners, inmates, criminals, or worse. My next thoughts vacillated between “Call them what you want to call them. They’re still prisoners” and “Residents? This prison is a gated community, but certainly not in a luxurious location.” Residents? The word “resident” simply describes someone who dwells in a location. The judgment inherent in words such as “prisoner,” “inmate,” and “criminal” is removed in the use of the word “resident.” My role in directing the OMAG choir would not be as a judge, but as musician and human. This mindful shift in perspective is helping me find the courage to remain aware, while also finding the common humanity that I want to unearth through making music.