Call me by my Name
Call me by my name. Not the name you created, because mine’s so hard. Not the one you prefer, because the last time you really knew me, I was four years old. Not the one you know was given to me at birth, when I had no say in it. Call me by my damned name! This is a familiar rant for anyone who has changed their name. Whether it was choosing to drop a family nickname, or publicly taking a name of their own choosing when going through transition to the correct gender. For some of us, it’s because we use a different name than our birth name-- sometimes it’s a nickname of our choosing, or just choosing to use a name we like. No matter how we came to this name, it ours, and that’s what we want to be called. Let me explain a little. My birth name is not Emma. This is my chosen name. I’ve used it publicly for almost 20 years. It’s how I sign my name, if I don’t just use an initial. It’s how I answer the phone; it’s the name I am introduced by, and the one I introduce myself by.