The BBC ran a story a couple days ago on why black Americans don’t swim. It was a deeply embarrassing but heart wrenching story: I have long lamented the fact that lots of people I know on my island do not swim in spite of us being surrounded by water. The facts were that in that particular instance, eight teenagers died trying to save each other from water in the Red River in Shreveport that was not even that high or that deep. However, even more surprising, what struck me and my work colleague who read the stories at the time were the names of the victims- DeKendrix, JaTavious, JaMarcus, Takeitha, Litrelle, LaTevin and LaDarius. Why? I would love to say that these were the most inventive I have heard. But this is sadly untrue. I have heard of a Tanashaka, I know a Shavasia, my friend's son is called Deqwante and I used to teach a Shalyndria.
Now, I would gladly defend my community on a few troubling issues. I would sometimes excuse a lack of foresight and financial planning- it’s hard to plan for a future where the basis point is deprivation and which conspires against you. I would excuse a certain level of posturing- our backbones have been metaphysically crushed so we find any excuse to be the “man” in various situations. I would make absolutions for the absence of structure in our family lives- it is difficult to be a man when your foreparents have only been treated as sires. I would even defend ‘ebonics” and “blackspeak” in the appropriate environments- this is our dialect and our way to appropriate our mental processes and not to capitulate to the The Man. However, on these inventive or unique or downright crazy, awful, made-up, self-harming, stumbling block names , I have to say the buck stops here and I draw the line. Black people, this onomastic vomit needs to stop. Halted. Discontinued. Brought to a goddamn halt. Okay, once again, more politely. I should be grateful if you would desist from making up stupid names and bestowing them on your children. Kind regards. Kimaspeak.
I feel strongly about this, and not because Freakonomics raised the issue of whether children with black sounding names will definitely progress less than children with white sounding or conventional sounding names. There is no reason for our children to be Emilys, Margarets or Kates. Tough. The system will have to get used to Keishas and Imanis in the workplace. I already write emails to a Tenisha and it's fine, liberating even. Besides, Freakonomics shows that the name is not the real hindrance, it is only a symptom of the malaise- the parents who call their children Demetrius and Marquis and Jeondre are often parents with low aspirations for their offspring in the first place.
I feel strongly about this because the art of naming in the African tradition is being misrepresented and shredded to a figleaf of what it actually represents. African naming traditions are important and a person’s name is perhaps the strongest indication of identity and roots. Our naming traditions are varied, but they are all based in reason. Sometimes they depend on the time of the birth and/or the day of the week of an individual’s birth. Hence, among the Akan and the Fante in Ghana, names such as Yaw, Kwadwo, Akua and Abena mean that an individual has been born on a particular day of the week. Some names often depend on the position of the individual within the family and the circumstances of the birth. For instance, the name Idowu means ‘child born after twins’. Some names are fraught with hope and thanksgiving such as Ayoke, meaning ‘one who is blessed’, others are gleeful such as Bayo “to find joy” and others are simple, yet proclamatory, such as “Nailah” which means “succeeding”.
The very act of naming can be in itself deeply symbolic. For example, it is very often that he oldest member of the family carries out the naming ceremony. Amongst Swahili speaking Kenyans, the first or birth name called ‘jina la utotoni’ is given to babies as soon as they are born. This is chosen by an elderly relative and usually refers to the child’s appearance, like ‘Biubwa’ which means ‘soft and smooth’. After up to 40 days, the parents and paternal grandparents choose the ‘jina la ukubwani’, or adult name, for the child. With the Akan Ghanaians, it is the father of the baby who chooses the name of a beloved relative in the hope that the child will grow up to be like the namesake.
In Nigeria, a name takes on a spiritual significance. Each name tells something about the child and the family. The first name is the child’s personal name and may reflect the circumstances of the family. The second name is a descriptive name that expresses the personality of the child, expresses what the child might become, or is an attribute that the child is hoped to acquire. The third name relates to the child’s kinship. It could be the name of the earliest ancestor, a famous ancestor, or the name of items that are sacred to the family.
Given the fact that most black people of African heritage and/or origin were not allowed to name themselves or their offspring and had to adopt the name of a slave-owner, we would think that the act of naming would take on an almost spiritual significance. Condemned to carry the pouch of a plantocrat’s remnant of a name as a constant reminder of who we were not, one would think that we would ensure that the name we give to ourselves and to our sires would stake our pride, loudly proclaim our roots, declare our allegiance to our culture and be a solid representation of where we choose to head in the future. In the 60’s, there were already distinctive black names- Kizzy, Abileen- but they did not verge on the ridiculous- they were proud manifestations of black resistance. Similarly, in the 70’s, Islamic names became in vogue (another blogpost) but at least, they meant something. A child is already the metaphysical joining of its parents- we don’t need names like KelShanique to evidence that a girl is the offspring of Kelly and Shanique. Neither does adding an extra apostrophe or accent carry the hallmark of sophistication- especially, I may add, when the name in question is spelt incorrectly- the name S’hawnté springs to mind and so does Tifphanee (if you can spend nine months carrying a child, maybe it might be advisable to spend at least 5 minutes to check the spelling of his/her name?).
In writing this, I battled with myself because I am a true libertarian- little Mashekonda’s name doesn’t really hurt me so why shouldn’t I just live and let live? Isn’t the creativity of the names a manifestation of our unique culture and way of doing things as a people? Should we be really applauding LaQuonsheetia’s parents? At least they did not go for staid, safe brown paper bag names like Lucy or Anne and at least they did not try to pass of their children for who they were not. No offences to any Lucys or Annes. And isn’t it just psychological profiling and a sign of mental servitude to say that names should not be necessarily created?
I have thought about it from so many angles and I say no, because a name is a proclamation, a name determines what we allow ourselves to answer to and represents us from birth as who we are to others (at least until we change it). A good creative name should not be a name that is stupid. A name should not be an object of ridicule because it means that the owner is then ridiculed. I know that our communities struggle for identity in spite of socioeconomic disadvantages. However showing one’s independence in what is often a hostile environment should not manifest itself by saddling our kids with names that make them sound illiterate and which project an image of a gum chewing, gold toothed, ex-prison father and a mom on welfare. Stereotypes are rampant and perpetuating them is not cute. A unique name can still be dignified and abound in meaning and significance. Let's fix up.
