The Yang of Yin

We are, it would seem, a binary species and we live in a binary world where opposites define each other. Think, for example, of up and down –the one depends on the other for its very existence: there is obviously no up without a down with which to contrast it. Good/bad, in/out, light/dark, near/far… even the code written into our computers -the list of inter-dependent binaries is endless.

Perhaps the most famous –and arguably the earliest- recognition of this interdependence is the Chinese concept of Yin and Yang. Without pretending an esoteric knowledge of historical linguistics or an abstruse Sinological background, the meanings of Yin and Yang can be superficially understood as ‘shady’ and ‘sunny’ respectively, and seem to date from sometime in the fourth century BCE.

I suppose the reason this complementarity is so fascinating to me is the implied rejection of the rule of the Absolute. One would seem to need, say, a seller for the concept of ‘buyer’ to exist. And by extension, perhaps, the presence of evil for good to become manifest –although I recognize that to be a bit of semantic trickery. But at any rate, it is an interesting idea to play with.

Binarity –to neologize- has its limits, however. Or at least its two components can be seen as bookends that confine an entire shelf of not-quites. The concept, as we often find after sufficient investigation, can be that of a spectrum, with intermediates melding imperceptibly into their shelf-mates.

Labels, while they help us to identify things, can also lead us astray. I will cover this idea more fully in a later essay, but suffice it to say that a label can be merely a societal/cultural attempt at categorization –a name that simplifies the issue of what to make of the entity. Where to put it. How to interact with it.

For now, however, I would like to touch briefly on whether or not the hitherto necessary binary assignation of gender is anachronistic. There was a helpful BBC News article that brought this to my attention:  http://www.bbc.com/news/health-35242180  and while I have certainly touched on gender issues in past essays, https://musingsonwomenshealth.wordpress.com/2014/07/03/the-asexual/  and https://musingsonwomenshealth.wordpress.com/2013/01/18/gender/ for example, the idea that gender is a labile concept is one that my generation, at least, often finds challenging.

And yet, if one can step back from the anatomical signposts that have directed us for millennia, is the binary assignation of male or female really all that important a predictor of who, or for that matter, what a person is? We’ve always known that different people manifest different characteristics and we even apply societally accepted terms to allow them to maintain their positions within the otherwise ordained sexual designations. We use such terms as ‘effeminate’ for a man who seems at odds with the perceived norms for masculinity, or ‘tomboy’ for a young girl who seems to run with the other team –although I admit I haven’t heard that word applied since I was young myself (perhaps the term is now ‘butch’ although I find it offensive and somehow demeaning). My point, though, is not what words we use, but that we have always found ways to describe someone who does not quite fit into normative –or what the majority may describe as normative- assignations. In other words, a tacit realization –and acceptance- that gender cannot be captured by genitalia alone.

It is not a new concept in any society as the BBC article attempted to illustrate. Sexuality and, indeed, sexual orientation has always been a fluid concept –and both an intriguing and compelling one, as the recent and untimely death of David Bowie has served to remind us. Maybe the time has come to reconsider things. I wonder why it has taken us so long to realize that what we treasure in people and what we find so important is not their gender, not their sexual orientation, and certainly not their appearance, but their energy. Their spirit, I suppose.

We can never agree on everything, perhaps, but as with Shakespeare in The Winter’s Tale, I say, ‘When you do dance, I wish you a wave o’ th’ sea, that you might ever do nothing but that.’