I Was Ashamed of My Name

I was ashamed of my name for years. Kashara.

People always seemed to mispronounce it — switching vowels and consonants. I could (and still) can read the confusion on faces. It was awkward for me to repeat it two — even three times — while the other person struggled slowly to get it, only to say it wrong a few minutes later.

In the fourth grade, I remember asking my teacher to use a nickname — Kassie. Fewer syllables, less noticeable during roll call, and less “Black” or ethnic-sounding. She and my friends obliged. My parents refused.

Shame intrigues me. Particularly the ease at which we pick it up, coddle, and cradle it so close to our bodies. The way that we make the subconscious (and conscious) choice to use shame to inform all of our future decisions. And how we spiral in it because we feel that bringing it up would only enhance it.

I often wonder how much of the shame that we carry derives from systems, patriarchies, and the other people who subscribe to them? Had I known back then that my name wasn’t the problem — that it was, in fact, the default system of Whiteness that I was unknowingly forced to operate in, how much sooner would I have left the shame behind?

When I can’t make sense of my external circumstances, I find that I resort to self-blame — a kind of neurosis. But I’ve come to realize that the shame does not belong to me. It belongs to them. And knowing that has made all the difference because I’m less likely to hide bits and pieces of myself. I no longer desperately work to prove my worthiness to the system that continuously props up its own.

I love my name now, but occasionally when I introduce myself, people say things like, “Oh wow! That’s an interesting name. It’s a mouthful. Do you have a nickname?” And while it may be an innocent question to them, it’s micro-aggressive. Because to ask or insist that I provide you an alternative name is asking me to erase my identity and all of the history associated with my name for your comfort.

So when someone asks me if I have a nickname, my response is always and forever, “No,” and I am proud of that.