Asking a heterosexual man to change his entire name--first, middle, and last--after marriage can feel risky. He may cling to the name his parents carefully selected for him at birth. Maybe he’s named for Grandpa Blazegrits or Uncle Orhan; maybe he’s even a II or a III. These days he may expect no change, a hyphenation, a portmanteau, or--in some cases--to change his LAST name to yours.
Please read Stacia L. Brown on "the racial prism": This is hard, this divided attention. But it isn’t just an emotional and intellectual focus divided by half. This is no mere doubled consciousness. Race in this country, with each successive generation, with every historical echo, and for all our technological advancement, has become a prism. This new racial prism — this 24-hour access to every horrible, three-dimensional detail of black trauma, requires constant, multiplicitous…
Some folks can call flowers by name. Dragonsbreathladysucklehibiscus. Dandiorchard Tigerpoppyleaf. Dirt. Seed. Stem. That's as far as I get. Georgia Burt didn't have a garden—she had 8 kids, the corner store, and a reverend husband slumped into a puddle of hooch. She had the Lord and his three names and always Newports— none of that CamelMarlboroughVirginiaSlims shit. Oops, she'd say. Your mama don't want me to curse 'round you kids, I'm sorry. There's promise born…
“Your name is Tasbeeh. Don’t let them call you by anything else.” My mother speaks to me in Arabic; the command sounds more forceful in her mother tongue, a Libyan dialect that is all sharp edges and hard, guttural sounds. I am seven years old and it has never occurred to me to disobey my mother. Until twelve years old, I would believe God gave her the supernatural ability to tell when I’m lying. “Don’t…