'What's in a Name?' The Past, Present and the Future... So Say. My. Name.

'You're gonna say that's racism aren't you', said Piers Morgan, as he had just tripped over and failed at pronouncing the name for Dr Shola Mos-Shogbamimu - a guest on his morning show to add commentary on discussions around race back in January.

I watched on, smiled, and just shook my head.

"It's not your fault' I thought to myself (in my Nigerian accent - ask somebody) - as Piers began to explain that it really wasn't his fault but the fact that the teleprompter had put her name onto it on two lines...

Mmmm... because breaking up a word makes it harder to say... when that's the number 1 way you are taught to make a word easier to pronounce.

So it got me thinking as to the microaggressions that those of us with 'non-Western' names have faced over the years and I thought that I'd take a moment in this #SaturdayServing to think about the significance of names, and why - they are important, especially when they're hard to say.

Where this Starts for me...

My first name is Olayinka (pronounced Orh-lie-yin-kah).

It means 'wealth surrounds me' in the language of my heritage - Yoruba.

It outlines me as a daughter of Oduduwa and all over the world outlines to anyone that knows that I am part of one of the coolest clubs in the entire world.

It has 8 letters both in Yoruba and in English. Although they are not spelt exactly the same as the Yoruba Alphabet has letters that do not exist in English.

And as for that meaning - it was so significant for my parents, who named me thus after a long period between the birth of their first child and my arrival.

It harks back to people they love and to a nation that will always be home no matter the where the wind takes them. I am grateful for my name... and no one could call it like my grannies. No one.

My name is incredibly significant to me. All of them are.

They carry a power, and an intention and a blessing from my parents.

My name is a reminder to me of the dreams that my parents have for me. The dreams that they turned into plans when they left familiar shores to seek a better life for us.

My name is an affirmation. A powerful declaration.

And so...I insist on keeping it as I want it said.

And I'm so blessed that it's not just one of them either... As is our tradition - I have more names than you can imagine - more names than could fit on my birth certificate. Each one a prayer, and affirmation. A reminder of the greatness and legacy of which I am part. Each one pushing me forward to greatness of my own. (and I won't tell you about them all as they form my actual government name!)

Now you wouldn't think that 8 letters would be so difficult to say - especially not in a phonetic language like Yoruba. And you wouldn't believe that something like a name could be so traumatic - but believe me, growing up in Bermondsey (which in the 80's was a very excited place for the National Front - which for non-UK readers, is our own right-wing racist activist group)... I can tell you that it truly was. And it was just miserable at times. You wouldn't believe the things I've been called over the years.

Kids butchered the hell out of it, and made mean rhymes out of it - and the better I did in class and sports, the more that my name was the only thing they had to get at me, and boy did they use it.

Supply (or Substitute) teacher days were the worst, as it was yet another person that I would have to explain my name to, and excuse for their frustration at my name.

And each and every time my full name was mispronounced, it was like a little dagger, telling me I didn't belong, that I was different. That my name wasn't 'normal' (it ain't) and that that was a problem (it ain't). Now as an adult, I don't care now, but for a 5 year old in a class full or Charlottes, Suzies, and other Nigerian girls with western names, who joined in with the dissing of your name, it's pretty tough to bare.

But bare it I did... and as I went to secondary school something quite strange happened.

Tchaikovsky

That word brought it home for me in real fashion. Those 11 letters changed everything. In an orchestral event, the conductor had just attempted to butcher my name again - and then went on to tell us about the pieces of music we were about to play, pronouncing Tchaikovsky and Prokofiev perfectly.

"Oh hell no" - I thought to myself.

That 11-worded name of some dead dude is important enough for you to make sure you say it right, and yet my 8 lettered phonetically spelt name is too hard for you to try to get right... Nah.

And then it dawns on me...

That he could pronounce correctly what he felt was important to pronounce correctly. And I, 1st flute player - the one black face in that white space, wasn't worthy of him trying to learn how to pronounce it properly

My name was an inconvenience to him. So what if it was wrong. It was unimportant. But Tchaikovsky wasn't so we'd better say it right.

And so it became clear... as Tchaikovsky represented pursuits cerebral, high-brow enough and 'acceptable' enough for the society that I was in, so it was important that we learnt their names. And yet the names of black and brown (and then fellow eastern european and even Irish) children weren't deemed important enough to learn how to say it properly - causing all sorts of challenges and identity crises in a generation of immigrant children.

Christian Names

But let me be very clear - it's not just the people we met here are concerned about our names. I would often be asked by fellow Nigerian adults about where my 'Christian name' was.

When I explained that Olayinka was my Christian name they would proceed to let me know that it wasn't Christian enough, as it wasn't a strong solid biblical name.

You can imagine their chagrin when I explained that the bible names that they had placed so much stock in where in fact Hebrew names, as many fell in the Old Testament of the Bible (pre-Christ's birth) and those in the New testament may have been Greek, or other names, but that the Bible didn't contain Christian names, as there was in fact no record of names given by 'Christians' for their children.

That wasn't what they meant

They simply wanted to confirm that my Yoruba name wasn't quite as acceptable as their Hebrew (and therefore easier to pronounced and more western-acceptable names) names, and that somehow made me more uncouth, or my parents backwards.

Thankfully that isn't a prerequisite to get into the Christian club, but even there, the effects of anglicised thinking has actual Nigerian people telling me my Nigerian name was unacceptable. Wow. Just Wow.

What's in a Name?

Anyone who thinks that names are unimportant do not understand the laws of the freaking Universe.

We know that there is life and death in the power of the tongue, how much more so in a name that literally sticks to someone until they are of legal age to change it.

You are shaped by your name. It feeds into your self -identity and it's meaningful.

A rose would smell differently if it was called something else. Not massively, but if it was called a 'crapsicle' you might feel differently about it.

Which is why names are important. They shape your thoughts, without you even realizing. They provide links to the past.

That's the reason why enslaved peoples were often forced to change their names in captivity and were not permitted to openly speak their languages or to call their children their traditional names

Which shows us that names also link to the future.

Which is why many converts to Islam take on new names once they are received into their new faith.

Names have meanings in every culture - which is why names are so significant, and have a power that we often underestimate.

I've seen this name erasure throughout my life, Seun's become Shauns, Nike's become Nikki's, and while it used to infuriate me to see that - I'm much more philosophical when I consider the tide of messaging and pressure telling those with names that the prevalent culture insists on mispronouncing, or cannot be bothered to try to get right.... if everything tell you that you're wrong, then sometimes the easiest way to not have yet another thing to cross swords about.

But Dr Marijuana Pepsi VanDyck, through her defiance in refusing to change her name, and also through the study which earned her her PhD outlines why your name is something that you absolutely should cross swords about.

Can I call you Jane?

Yes, I've been asked that question. By someone who took one look at my first name (Olayinka), decided it was too hard and wanted to make it easier on themselves.

This person was a teacher to me, and yet the answer was unequivocal - 'No, you cannot.'

Especially as you didn't even try.

You could have asked me how to say it - I would have told you

You could have started to try, and slowed down - I would have helped you finish.

But what you don't get to do is pluck a name out of your backside because it's easier for you to pronounce than even trying to say mine. A name that is totally unrelated to mine at that. Unbelievable!

I am reminded of the incredible Warsan Shire poem, which I subscribe to with my whole heart

Even Kamala

So we've just witness Vice-Presidential Candidate Kamala Harris having her name ridiculed by her colleague of at least 4 years in an attempt to belittle and demean her.

Unless you've been under a rock... you know exactly how to say her name.

And if you've been working alongside her for 4 years, and you don't know how to pronounce your colleagues name, then you've just outed yourself as a damn fool.

No - what we saw, apart from the playground bullying of old, was an attempt to other and belittle her because her name isn't Jane.

It was yet another attempt to remind Americans that she's a little bit brown and a little bit different, and she's one of those annoying people with funny names.

She's attempting to take one of the most powerful offices in the world, and even she is not immune to the disrespect and microaggressions that come along with a non-Western name.

And yes... no one died. No one was physically harmed... but yes - that's white supremacy at it's finest. To act as though she's 'less than'. To insult her using her name is as low as it gets. Oh and pretty daft too. All for some cheap laughs!

Especially in business

Names are important. Especially in business.

Books live and die by what they're called.

Products do too.

The imac, iphone and ipad would have had different lives with different names. And it's part of the reason that I've sought out the best in the biz on naming things as I consider some of the next moves in my business... because names do the heavy lifting for you. I'm so excited to be diving into Louise Karsh's Book 'Word Glue' as I learn more about naming and how to do it better.

Names matter - so never believe them to be trivial.

It shows so much when you take the time to find out how to pronounce people's name properly - how they like to be called, what is important to them. It was how I chose my secondary school, and it's how I've 'not chosen' potential business and joint venture partners.

A name tells you where you're at right now. It tells you so much of what has gone before and it absolutely speaks to the future that you are hoping for.

So no matter how hard it is... Show a little respect. Give it a try.

SAY. MY NAME.

P.S: My children all have Yoruba names too - and about 10 names each. The blessing we bestowed on them on their 7th day means they are destined for greatness, far beyond that which they are descended from. But don't worry - just like Tchaikovsky and Prokofiev, you will learn to say their names too.