Call Us By Our Names.

Have you ever been called by a name that wasn’t yours for the convenience of a caucasian who said it was “too hard to pronounce,” “has too many syllables” or the classic “I can’t make the clicking sounds,” when they haven’t even tried? Have you ever been given a nickname because they “can’t remember your name?” I have… And my first name only has two syllables and contains not one click. I have also bore witness to it happening to people that I know.

When I arrived at my first job, I was introduced to everyone in the studio. I was assigned a desk and next to me, sat a designer who introduced himself as Rati (short for Oratile). I know this because I always ask what a person’s full name is when I first meet him or her (I’ll explain why a little later). Once I had settled in, the day went on — I received my first brief and started working on it.

Later in the day, a tall flamboyant man walked in, greeting everyone with happiness and jokes. After setting his bags at his desk, he came towards mine and I was introduced to him.

“This is Thando. She’ll be with us for a few months…” 
He responded, “Argh, can’t I call you Mina?” 
“No. My name is Thando,” I said sternly.
He continued, “No, It’ll be Mike (pointing at Rati) and Mina (looking at me).”
So I responded, “No. I am Thando and his name is Rati.”

It seemed funny to some of the people around us so I realised that I had missed the joke and quickly asked Rati what this was all about after the flamboyant man had walked away.

Rati explained that Mike and Mina were characters created for a menstrual product that they had been working on. Characters that were meant to teach teens in the rural areas about hygiene and health. I was not only shocked at how this was deemed appropriate to joke about in the workplace, but also at the chuckles around us. Following that, two similar incidents occurred where I had to tell him to address Rati by his name. We were also often referred to as our job titles by someone else.

At the time, I felt that I had duly and fully corrected these people but I still feel that I had failed to explain and articulate myself because of my shock and anger at the time. This is what I would have loved to tell them about the importance a name carries:

1. My name is an extension of my family. It was given to me by people who love me — the very people who brought me onto this earth.

2. My name means love. It was what my father felt when he first saw me. It comes from his favourite hymn “uThandolwakhe luyamangalisa”, which means “His (God’s) love is amazing”.

3. A name not only binds a person to their family, it also forms part of a person’s individual identity. It signifies that he or she is an autonomous entity; unique and separate from any other person or thing.

4. Calling people out of their names is rude, especially when minimising their identity for a matter of convenience and disregard for their importance in the environment in which you interact.

5. Saying a person’s name correctly as said to you shows respect and helps that person reaffirm his or her identity.

Next time anything like that happens, I think I will be able to explain why I feel so strongly about this. That it doesn’t just apply to caucasians getting Black people’s names wrong, or shortening them for their convenience, but also to themselves and their own names too. These are also the reasons I ask for a full name when I am introduced to someone new.

I went on to write a pledge to the honour of my name:

I have a name — it is Thando Khumalo. 
It means something; therefore I mean something to the people who named me. 
I shall be addressed by no other name as I will address you by your own.
I will defend my name because I defend my identity.
I will also defend yours because I acknowledge that as much as I matter to my family, you too, mean something to yours.
So show some respect and Call Us by Our Names.