Our names are powerful tools
Recently, there was a post on my social media about two Black women who were misidentified as each other on many occasions.
Their spheres of work often overlap, but the key point was how many times they were misidentified.
In my experiences as a white-coded First Nations female, the only times I recall being misidentified were:
by my mother calling me by my brothers’ names as she rambled off all three to get one of us to respond — which would frustrate me immensely;
when my partner accidentally puts groceries into another person’s grocery cart when I wear the same style of clothing as other shoppers; as a grandmother to my son. Never have I experienced a stranger or acquaintance who would casually call me a name other than my own with the degree of familiarity mentioned by the two Black women.
I’m sure there are an abundance of excuses for this misidentification of one particular group but, in reality, misidentification happens way too frequently for many racial groups. With it sits an unconscious bias, an understanding of a different relationship — an entitlement — established by non-racialized people.
Through my work with colleagues and relationships with my friends, I often hear these stories and how they can get tiresome.
When I hear the weight and exhaustion in their voices, I understand that misidentification is more than putting grocery items in the wrong cart.
The renaming of people is a microaggression, or what I like to call an “unconscious micro behaviour.” And it happens way too frequently for equity-deserving people. The burden of correcting, educating and contextualizing takes energy and time.
Our names are powerful tools. Whether they’re nicknames, pet names, legal names, traditional names or new names, they’re part of our identity.
Misnaming — even unintentionally — is an attempt to define a relationship you may not necessarily be entitled to have.
There was a time when many First Nations’ names were knowingly replaced by Indian agents on documents to unconsciously (or not) exert power over a person or nation. In residential schools, even the colonial names given to students were erased and replaced with a number.
This act of removing or changing names without consent was, and remains, an act of oppression.
People may feel they’re trying to be polite, but the assumption of a person’s identity can be insulting — it minimizes the individual, their accomplishments and their individuality.
Instead of incorrectly calling out to someone by name, ask yourself how well you know the person you’re about to address. In the grand scheme of things, if you can’t recognize someone properly, perhaps using their name to start a conversation is not the best way.
If it is, in fact, critical, consider offering a hello, head nod, smile and your own name as ways to connect.