Names: A speech from the Take Back the Night march
It’s said that each of us has three names: the name our parents give us, the names others give us and the name we give ourselves.
The name your parents give you might suit you nicely. It’s the one you grow up with, the one you hear your dad whisper when he wishes you a good night sleep, it’s the one that’s on your birth certificate. But sometimes, for whatever the reason may be, that name doesn’t fit. It’s hard to give a person a name before you even know them.
Then there’s the name that others give you. Maybe it’s something like smart girl who sits next to me in class, obnoxious boy with the purple socks, loud hall mate, beautiful, unique, that kid who always sneezes, quiet, weird, cynical, talks to much, attractive smile. These names could be good or bad, special or mundane.
Some names that people give me are ones I refuse to accept. Walking down the street at Rutgers or in my neighborhood I hear others call out names like slut, should’ve dressed better, whore, worn out wild child, bitch, freak I’d tap, and the ever too common oh baby. Sometimes the names are spit out loud and strong, and other times they are whispered to the nearest peer.
The people on the street, the ones who call out names, they always say: why don’t you smile when you see me? I don’t smile when I see you because I am not happy to see you. I am not happy to see a person who calls me names I do not want. I am not happy to be degraded.
Most of us can think of a time when someone else gave us a name that we didn’t want.
Women, people of color, members of the LGBTQ community, people with disabilities, and other folks who do not fit in the impossibly tiny box of “cultural norms”, are given names they never wanted almost every time they walk outside. Hurtful epithets from the media, society, and fellow community members enter our consciousness everyday. The names that others call us become names that we eventually accept. We keep those cruel names inside ourselves no matter how much they hurt.
Lastly, there are the names you call yourself. These are our true names. The ones that we hold in our hearts and our minds. The ones we repeat to ourselves when were riding the bus, or having a bad day, or walking in the sunshine. Take a second please and think of one of your own (moment of silence).
I have decided to choose a name for myself. My new name is Brave. It’s one that took a while for me to decide on but I like to think I am growing into it. Being brave isn’t easy: to face danger and power head on, to not accept the constants that rule our lives, to fight against the tide of corruption, hate, and anger. To dismiss hurtful names that others give us.
Being brave means pretending not to be scared until your truly aren’t anymore. It means means acknowledging that people can be hurtful but just because others can hurt, doesn’t mean you can’t love.
When I look at this crowd, I know that I am not the only one who chose the name Brave. We are all here today, marching through New Brunswick, because we have given ourselves this name. This march itself is an act of bravery.
I encourage you to stick by the names you give yourself. When a person calls you a mean or hurtful name on the street, in your workplace, or even in your own home, find the part of you that you call Brave and fight back. When you are a target of sexism, racism, classism, or any other dividing tool, be the brave part of you and call them out . Acts of bravery will be what changes this culture from one of rejection to one of acceptance. Being brave is being yourself no matter who you’re around.
On certain occasions, I have needed to introduce myself as Brave to various institutions. I have had to tell the University, the government, the coffee shop down the street, or New Jersey Transit, that I am Brave. That I won’t allow for harassment or stigmatization. That when I see others given names that they don’t want I will not sit idly. That when I am given a name I do not want, I will not take it.
Sometimes it’s scary, but it is always worth it.
When I am trying to be the part of myself that I call Brave, I can do it better when I am with others. On occasions its difficult to stand up alone and be the only voice crying out in a crowd. It’s hard to fight against the names that others give you, and assert the name you chose for yourself when you’re the only one talking. That’s why we need more voices to all declare their own names together. We all need to speak out.
Speak out against violence.
Speak out against hate.
Speak out against injustice.
Speak out against lies, corruption, power without reason, bigotry, discrimination.
Speak out against the names that others give you, and shout out the name you call yourself.
I’d like to ask you to do one thing before you leave tonight. Please introduce yourselves to a person next to you. Make a new friend, a new ally, a new lover, a new person to work together with. I’ll go first:
Hello. The name my parents gave me is Sarah Beth, the names others give me aren’t important, and the name I gave myself is Brave. It’s nice to meet you.
Sarah Beth Kaye