For as long as I can remember, Ive had a difficult name.
I use quotation marks because, of course, my name has never been difficult tome.
And its never been difficult to my parents, who are responsible for my name in the first place.
US Vice President Kamala Harris during a campaign event in Philadelphia on August 6, 2024.
NoI learned that my name was difficult gradually, over time.
Is this, um, Muh-KAI-tah?
Maybe theyd keep trying in vain, all while actively apologizing for butchering my name.
Its Mee-KEY-tah, Id eventually explain, first defensively, then assertively.
They would continue to mispronounce and misspell my name anyway.
And that phenomenon never really stopped.
Some may find name misspellings and mispronunciations relatively inconsequential.
Our names quite literally identify us.
In many ways, they legitimize us because they are our primary markers of identity.
We lead with our names and everything else comes after.
These are beautifully woven, impossibly intricate histories that we have few other connections to.
Our name is both a thread and a lifeline.
Our name is where our story begins.
And it deserves respect and reverence.
Naming something (or someone) gives it (or them) power.
Not naming, therefore, does the opposite.
Her multidimensionality is beyond Trumps comprehension.
And its driving him even madder than he already is.
On one occasion, a patron, eyeing my name tag, asked, Where are you from?
I answered as I always didand, for the record, still doby saying, Nebraska.
It quickly became evident that he felt entitled to this information about me and my racial identity.
Heneededto be able to neatly classify me into whatever preconceived categories he had in his head.
Not being able to do so made him less powerful, less in control.
And men who dont feel in control are unpredictable at best and dangerous at worst.
The Trump cult has clear issues with capable, intelligent, in-control women.
They mock and feign ignorance about its proper pronunciation at rallies and in television interviews.
And they know exactly what theyre doing.
I appreciate and value my unique name, and have come to accept a few truths.
For one, my name automatically signals a sense of otherness.
My name means I immediately stick out.
What does it mean?
Where are you from?
Why are you here?
The world tried to convince me that my name was difficult, complicated, foreign, strange.
And when thats the message you continually receive, its as exhausting as it is confusing.
Theres pressure to perform and conform, all at the same time.
Balancing along the tightrope of multiracial identity in America is an imperfect, ongoing effort.
Theres a deep desire to belong despite being born to stand out.
