Labels Are Lazy. People Aren’t.

A few years ago, someone I worked with told me — months after we’d become friends — that they used to think I was snobby and unfriendly. It caught me off guard. I remember laughing awkwardly, then admitting, “I’m actually just shy. I’ve always been that way.”

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard something like that. I’ve had to work on being more open, more warm, more visibly friendly. Not because I don’t care — but because I’ve always been the kind of person who watches before I speak, who feels the room before I enters it fully.

But what struck me most wasn’t their assumption — it was how confidently they had decided who I was without ever asking.

If they did, they’d find out I’m actually pretty funny once I warm up. That I love simple things — books, movies, learning something new. That I’m creative, curious, and always thinking. That I’m harder on myself than anyone will ever be. 

They’d learn that I’ve overcome incredible odds. That my quiet confidence and inner calm weren’t given — they were earned. That my big heart gets me in trouble sometimes, but I never stop seeing the beauty in others. I just see them.

They’d know I’m deeply loyal — I keep a smaller circle of friends, that I trust with everything. That I love my adult kids fiercely. That I love to write, and I’m a deep thinker with a spiritual core that guides me through life.

And yes, I’m single. People sometimes assume that means I’m juggling casual connections or not looking for anything meaningful like most people these days. But the truth is, I love getting to know someone deeply — one person at a time. I want real connection, not surface-level attention. I’m not interested in collecting people or getting attention.  I’m interested in understanding them.

It’s hard to understand the judgment — how quickly people decide who I am without ever asking.

What about you?  Do people take the time to hear your story or to know your depth fully?  

We do this all the time. We meet someone and, within minutes, we’ve built a story around them. She’s too loud. He’s arrogant. They’re awkward. We take a few surface-level cues and turn them into a full personality profile.

And once we’ve decided who someone is, we stop being curious.

We stop asking questions. We stop wondering what shaped them. We stop imagining that there might be more beneath the surface — because that would require effort, vulnerability, and the possibility that we were wrong.

We slap on a label and move on.

But here’s the thing: labels are lazy. People aren’t.

People are layered. Complicated. Beautifully contradictory. They carry stories, scars, dreams, and quiet triumphs. And none of that fits neatly into a one-word judgment.

 Is It Really About Them — Or About Us?

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: sometimes we label people quickly not because they’re hard to read, but because we’re afraid to read too deeply.

Getting to know someone — really know them — means opening ourselves up. It means risking discomfort, complexity, and emotional entanglement. It means intimacy.

And intimacy is scary.

So we keep things simple. We say, “She’s just like that.” We say, “He’s not my type.” We say, “I already know how this will go.” And in doing so, we protect ourselves from the messiness of real connection.

 What If We Asked One More Question?

What if we paused before deciding?

What if we asked, “What’s your story?” instead of assuming we already know it?

What if we let people surprise us — and let ourselves be surprised?

Because beneath every quiet exterior might be a poet. Beneath every awkward laugh might be a heart that’s been bruised. Beneath every “snobby” face might be someone who’s just shy — like me.

So What Now?

Next time you find yourself labeling someone — pause.

Ask one more question. Stay curious. Let them be more than the story you’ve written in your head.

And if you’ve ever felt misunderstood, remember: you’re not alone. We’re all walking around with layers no one sees unless they ask.

So be the one who asks.

Be the one who listens.

Be the one who dares to know — and be known.