Call me by my name

I have been Kimberly all my life. Not once have I ever introduced myself as or asked to be called Kim. It's a fine name. I know several lovely Kim's. But it has always felt like a completely different name, one I did not identify with. I'm short enough as it is. I'd love to linger longer on your tongue. I want to be called Kimberly, not Kim.

It has taken me a long time to claim this. I know don't why it seems to happens with my name in particular, but I'm astounded how often I introduce myself, "Hello, my name is Kimberly, " to be met right there or later with, "So nice to meet you Kim." In college and grad school, I used to brace myself for the roll call on that first day of class. I knew they had to see Kimberly Broerman on their roster, but 9 times out of 10, they would say "Kim Broerman?" "Present," I would say, too shy or insecure to make a correction.  

Don't be overly sensitive, Kimberly. They don't mean any harm in it, I would reason in my head. Just let it go. You don't want to make them uncomfortable. But then I would spend the whole conversation or semester not really feeling seen or heard, not fully myself. Who was this Kim they were speaking to?

Over time, it really got to me. Outwardly polite about it, I would inwardly seethe. Why in the world when I say my name is Kimberly, do you decide to call me Kim? Did you not hear me? Is saying two more syllables too much effort for you? Am I not worth your calling me by my name?

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I spent an hour yesterday morning researching the language we currently use to talk about people with darker skin tones. The evolution from Negro to colored to African-American to Black (capitalized or not?), from racial minorities to non-whites to people of color. The research in part was prompted by a Facebook post of a black colleague of mine. It was a cartoon, with a white woman asking, "As a POC don't you ." .. a black woman interjects "I'm black" . . . white woman continues "Don't you identify as. . ." to which the black woman responds, "Nope. Blackity black black." Several black friends chimed in to affirm the sentiment. I took note. It made me wonder about my own language in speaking and writing.

Some may think I'm worrying too much about words and identities. But I think of the closing line of  Elizabeth Alexander's poem I Believe, "and are we not of interest to each other?" I happen to believe it's worth asking:  how do people, as individuals or groups, want to be named or identified? And then listening to and honoring what they say. Language is imperfect, but we can at least try to use language that heals rather that hurts, that includes rather than excludes.

You may dismiss that as being "politically correct." I just see it as mutual respect and human kindness.

We are all worth it.

In this time of so much hurt and rage, so much hostility and meanness, we often wield words as weapons. They have such power to dismiss and wound. But they also have power to honor and heal.   The poet Gregory Orr issues this powerful invitation.

Let's remake the world with words.

Not frivolously, nor

To hide from what we fear,

But with a purpose.

Let's,

As Wordsworth said, remove

'The dust of custom' so things

Shine again, each object arrayed

In its robe of original light.

And then we'll see the world

As if for the first time,

As once we gazed at the beloved

Who was gazing at us.

You can hear him sharing this poem in his own voice on On Being.

Friends, I hope and pray we can take more of an interest in one another. May we see and hear people as we want to be seen and heard, as the Beloved sees us in our original light.

Yours,

Kimberly (not Kim, thank you)

PS - If you've ever called me Kim, I get it.  I know you did not intend harm, but I hope you can hear how it makes me feel.  I hope you can say I'm sorry I got that wrong.  And then I hope going forward, you will call me Kimberly.  We're good.

PSS - By the way, we say all kinds of things that hurt our black and brown friends.  We may not know or intend harm, but I hope we can hear them when they express their pain and frustration.  I hope we can express genuine apologies and learn from our mistakes.  And then I hope going forward, we can do better.

PSS - If you are a black or brown friend reading this, and my words, thoughts or actions don't land right with you, if they do unintentional harm, and if you feel up for it (big IF, I'm hearing that), I hope you'll call me on it.  I really want to learn, grow, and be and do better.  Thank you.