Valentines, labels, and an octopus

http://dabbled.org/tentacle-hugs-valentine-day-card-printable/

Valentine's Day being Saturday, I've been thinking about labels, about what distinguishes one group from another, and how we try to show love to each other.

I have to own, I'm not big on the idea behind labels. Their usefulness tends to end after initially getting to know someone, while limiting the ability to authentically know anyone. Applied to others we don't know, they're a sadder-yet-somehow-more-universally-acceptable version of those "hello, my name is" stickers worn at conventions because they have to be. They never really do what they're supposed to (name the person), and end up stuck in inconvenient places before they're torn off in frustration and discarded.

Labels are great as basic vocabulary, as smaller stepping stones to deeper conversations. But tensions seem most likely when they become the end of the conversation, or when they're applied to someone else without their consent.

Talking with a friend about labels, he commented on the challenge of figuring out what someone else means when they self-identify, or claim a particular label as their own. What I heard him say was it can be challenging to hear what someone loves most. And because what we don't all use the same basic vocabulary, we miss someone trying to share their valentines.

We love imperfectly, through filters of doubt and mistrusted instincts, so sometimes our valentines suffer from misshapen hearts, poor word choices, or octopuses with too many clinging tentacles.

Oklahoma seems to offer the valentine of overwrought tradition. Decorated with men holding doors open - and being confused when I asked them to ask me if I'd like that first, aisles of pink toys promoting traditional gender expectation, and women who flirt rather than ask directly for what they wanted, it's been challenging for me to see the beauty in the offering.

But it's not for me to decide what is beautiful to someone else; only to see there's a different sort of beauty presented. In doing so, I can show what I love; I can offer my own valentine in response.
And here's what the note on the back of my valentine would say to Oklahoma: 

Hi. 

I'm a feminist (which means I love the idea of my sexuality not being judged solely by my short haircut, my ethical core depending on how long my skirt or my gender identity resting completely on the fact I really, really dig movies with robots and dinosaurs and obscenely large explosions. because I really love those things. almost as much as chocolate.) and a progressive christian (which means I own I love imperfectly, and I really love imperfect people). 

I suspect I could love you, even though I don't understand you. And I hope we can be friends. So here's a valentine with an octopus. Because it's adorable and hugs rock.  

Maybe we can learn how to talk with each other slowly. Show me what you value, what you find beauty in, so I can appreciate the world through your eyes. And maybe we can find more in common than in what we don't know we love than in what we think we should. 

Also? I'll always share my chocolate. 

Amber