Unknotting My Knickers

So someone took offense yesterday at my calling myself a rennie, and my defining a rennie as someone who loves to go to Renaissance faires. My blog wasn't intended to be controversial, and if you know me at all, I avoid confrontation, almost to the extreme. And I've stewed and thought, and thought and stewed about the comment ever since. I must admit I was beginning to get my knickers in a knot.

First of all, I apologize if any of you found my terminology or definition offensive. My main point was to thank the wonderful shopkeeper and owner for their personalized service, and to show my friends my new ren faire garb. I was celebrating, and having fun. That's all.

In this day and age, when people self-identify with the gender of their choice, and can use whichever bathroom in which they feel most comfortable, I figure I am within my rights to identify myself however I want, even to go so far as to use the term rennie; no offense.

Most people didn't give it a second thought, and if they did, they didn't take the time to take me to task in public. I wasn't looking for anyone's approval or permission; I was simply recounting the events of my day, and having fun with my blog, counting myself among our friends at Bristol.

Perhaps I have a habit of calling myself things I'm trying to grow into. I call myself a photographer. My husband has been shooting for 15 years; I've been actively shooting for about five. For some reason, he is okay with my being a self-proclaimed photographer. I say that I'm a drummer, too, and we all know that's a stretch, but there are few who would call me out on it, or tell me I have not earned the right to call myself one. 

I'm so done with labels, and people telling others who they can or can't be, what they can or can't do, and what they can or can't say. I allowed others to do my thinking for me for far too long when I was younger. I put up with others dictating my mood and feelings longer than I should. I've paid my dues as a human, and I get to say what I want, write what I want, and do what I want, as long as I'm not hurting anyone else.

People are entitled to label themselves, if they like, but please don't tell me how I have to label myself. As far as I know, we're not competing for who is rennie-er than whom, or who has been taking pictures the longest, or who drums best.  I love doing what I do, and I just have fun writing about those experiences. 

I can be anything I want to be. My mama said so. If I want to call myself a rennie, I can do that. And if I want to be offended by someone's comments, I can do that, too, but you know what? I've decided I need to let it go. I'm going to unknot my knickers. In some elite circles, apparently, rennie is a name only granted when one has paid one's dues. I will respect that; that's admirable. 

In my own circle, we, who some might deem unfit to be called rennies, can call ourselves whatever we want, so, rennie it is.

Wouldn't you like to be a rennie, too?