Why pigeonholing personality types limits you
By ABHINAYA KASAGANI— akasagani@ucdavis.edu
For as long as I can remember, the classification of myself as Type A or Type B has felt foreign to me. I have shirked a label not solely to surpass a social tag, but to demand reclassification into a category that felt more like mine. No bone in my body is ambitious in the way it would be if I were Type A, nor do I possess the capability to completely lay my life in the hands of the universe like the quintessential Type B.
If anything, I would fit the self-assigned classification of “Type A.5” — I am able to be efficient, punctual and mostly laid-back, but altogether not high-strung to the point of immense stress nor spontaneous to the point of complete self-destruction. I have transcended to a state of balance without trying to get here, and so, where do I now place myself?
The Type A/B binary has been used by researchers to understand how and why people interact with the world in the way that they do, how they approach similar situations and how they respond to stress. This allows one to explain their particular tendencies and find ways to leverage their strengths and inhibit their weaknesses.
While useful, clinging to these binaries unhealthily oversimplifies human complexity and nuance and unknowingly shapes the assumptions that schools, employers and even individuals use to understand their lives. Some might use organization as a way to manage their ambition and limit stress, while others might resort to simply “winging it” — what is important here is that erasing the nuance of personalities that fall in between Type A and B can force people to operate within these predetermined frameworks, prohibiting them from discovering what truly works best for them.
So, what if you don’t want to pick a lane? Then, don’t. My inclination to identify as a “Type A.5” has allowed me to admit that, although I do appreciate providing myself with clear instructions and a semblance of structure, I find it easier to adjust to the transience that comes with everyday life. Structure is no longer restrictive to me in the same way that it was when I was trying to emulate someone who was a textbook Type A.
The binary nature of these personality types can take root in institutions, which assign a set of demands and expectations that favor the Type A student. The Type B student might be celebrated for their natural capabilities, but they are often thought of as inconsistent. Workplaces also disregard those in between Type A and B, believing them to be too focused for casual assignments and too adaptable to be tasked with project leads. This internal confusion leaves these kinds of people feeling deserted, constantly questioning their competency and authenticity.
Reframing these questions creates a space for people to define their own modes of operation or undertake their own self-evaluation, rather than catering to someone else’s distinctions. Retiring the either/or of personality — Are you a summer or winter? Are you a sunrise or sunset? Are you a beach person or a land person? — allows us to think of ourselves and our personhoods as more fluid and less extreme in either direction, embracing the amalgam of self in the only way we can.
So, I implore you not to take the Type A versus Type B quiz (or maybe take it with a grain of salt). Binary personality tests like these are often both inaccurate and constricting, failing to encompass what distinguishes you from the masses. For the sake of embracing your own idiosyncrasies, refrain from constructing this identity of yourself as solely a “thinker” or a “doer” — there is nothing more dangerous than the urge to pigeonhole yourself.
Written by: Abhinaya Kasagani— akasagani@ucdavis.edu
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by individual columnists belong to the
columnists alone and do not necessarily indicate the views and opinions held by The California Aggie.
