Fitting inside and getting out of boxes

The girl beside me abruptly asked if I were a freshman. I said yes and asked her how she knew because I didn’t recall telling her that I was. She smiled and said I was displaying a telltale sign: “Naka-binder ka kasi eh.”

It was a simple remark, but it kept me distracted during the whole Physics 10 class. She was able to classify me as a freshman just because I was using a maroon Campus Mates binder. How come I was able to tick the boxes of her freshman qualifications without even knowing she has one, and that she was studying me? Did it matter that I was using a maroon Campus Mates binder when I couldn’t even remember the brand of her pen? Why?

It would take me a few days to deduce something from that encounter: that we so easily can create stereotypes and fit people in those boxes.

The freshman whose binder gave her away.

The upperclassman with the Steno.

The rich, white English-speaking (in some cases, the coño) girl.

The morena, Taglish-speaking promdi girl.

The girl who cut her hair short because her boyfriend broke up with her. (Seriously? I donated 12 inches of my hair to a good cause. Besides, I have always been single.)

The no-boyfriend-since-birth girl.