“Aye, Shawty, what your name is?”
— Beyoncé (in her thickest Houston, TX accent), Video Phone, 2008
TL: DL (Too Long; Don’t Listen — although I would love if you gave me 18 minutes of your time.)
This episode is dedicated to a special and talented young doctor who has her finger on the pulse of all things Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) and its connection to Long Covid.
She is a fellow Black woman with a complicated name that isn’t all that complicated. Like her, I know what it is like to have my name sliced and diced to accommodate folks — who in their need to be perfect — mispronounce my name on purpose.
This woman’s name precedes her: she is brilliant and an answered prayer to MCAS patients who are at their wit’s end, trying to live a life not just defined by histamines and busted-up cells. If I were a stranger being introduced to her, I would brush up on my listening and pronunciation skills because she’s someone worth knowing and following. People had better hear her clearly when she teaches them how to say her name correctly or get left behind.
Yeah, she’s that great!
Our names are stately, beautiful, and culturally and historically essential. Our names paint adventure into a mundane world that doesn’t strive to accept and appreciate anything or anyone that doesn’t color in the lines. Instead of embracing unique names, we make dangerous assumptions of the people attached to them. We wait with bated breath to dismiss and exorcise people from our lives based solely on how uncomfortable their names make us feel. People with “weird” names are often automatically dismissed from hiring pools. Their home appraisals are often undervalued. And for the billions of searches we conduct online, we would rather relentlessly tease people’s names than research their meanings and the heritage they represent.
To any of you who have been deprived of owning your name because you were worried about people’s inability to put some respect on it, you are hereby released to take your name back. Take it back. Say your name with so much pride that people have no other choice but to sit up and take notice. Pronounce it with intentionality and refuse to make exceptions for anyone who won’t make an effort to say it fully.
“It’s Chimére (pronounced Sha • meer).”
To my queer folk who are experiencing a rebirth marked by new identities and names, bury the expectations the world has for you to be the puzzle piece that fits neatly into a space. Step boldly into a name that emphasizes your purpose, life, and goals. (Please share your new names with me if you feel comfortable.)
I love y’all. And let’s make the world know our names.
Don’t allow anyone to play with your name. Not now or ever.
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