What’s in a name? Everyone has at least one or two. Some have
three, four or more. The history of naming people is so ancient
that no one knows exactly how or where it began. However, we do
know that early names were always descriptive.
What’s in a name? Everyone has at least one or two. Some have three, four or more.
The history of naming people is so ancient that no one knows exactly how or where it began. However, we do know that early names were always descriptive. Parents waited until their children were three to five years old before choosing a name because they wanted one that fit the child’s personality or temperament. (Now, we pick a name and hope our child grows into it!)
In some cultures, you’re not supposed to share your name until you’ve built a trusting relationship with the other person. They believe that sharing your name gives others power over you and that it shouldn’t be offered frivolously. (Even though we don’t consciously hold those truths here and now, when we hear our name, we do turn to look, listen and feel inclined to respond – this is a type of social power.)
Most of us know what our names mean. Bonnie means, “sweet and good.” But, just to set the record straight, that’s not the name my parents initially picked out. Everyone else in my family of origin has a name starting with a “D” (Dale, Doris, Donna, Debbie) and I was supposed to be either Daniel (God is judge) or Darlene (dear little one.) The family teaser is that my mom changed her mind because I was ill and she didn’t want to waste a perfectly good “D” name on a baby that might not live. Alas, I did. Branded forever as an outsider with my “B” insignia.
The area we live in was originally called Pleasant Valley. No explanation needed. By the time our town was incorporated in 1850, it was being called Gilroy after Juan Bautista Gilroy. I’ve never really understood how this employed barrel maker in San Ysidro got towns named after him, but he did. Gilroy means, “son of the king’s servant.” Personally, I like Pleasant Valley better but the alliteration found in Gilroy as the garlic capitol of the world does work better for advertising purposes.
If people want to show their indifference, disdain or outright hatred for a person or group, they’ve traditionally chosen offensive terms to make their feelings known. In other words, nouns aren’t the only words with the power to belittle or humiliate; adjectives like dumb and lazy as well as emotionally charged phrases like “right wing radical” or “left wing loony” work just as well.
I’m not inclined to have discussions with people who call me names or classify me politically based on one opinion. I’m firmly convinced that everyone has a right to state their opinion even if they don’t have a doctorate in debating, arguing or quarreling. Everyone has opinions and reasons for having them; people without formal debate training shouldn’t be silenced because elite listeners dislike or disapprove of the delivery.
I like to discuss issues with people who come to the table with dialogical dialectic capabilities (even if they don’t know the terminology.) These conversational strategies were outlined by philosopher Martin Buber and can be applied to everything from personal relationships to public community issues.
Participants take turns speaking and listening but their attitude is always “I’m here to learn from the other.” Each listens without judgment or prejudice; listens solely to understand what the other holds true and how they came to hold it. Viewpoints are spoken without intending to persuade or convert – simply to state until the listener understands.
Since most opinionated people just want to be heard and win, I haven’t found many folks interested in this type of dialogue. (Incidentally, those that I have had were with individuals from a variety of positions on the political continuum.) Those rare events are refreshing, educational, provocative and productive – especially when the dialoguing partner believes differently than I do.
We’ve all chanted, “Sticks and stones may hurt my bones but names will never harm me.” Although it has an heroic sound, it’s still just a very brave lie. Calling people names – no matter how young or old they are – is meant to hurt and usually does even if the callee never admits it. It hurts if it’s said to your face or behind your back. If it’s said softly or yelled.
If it’s spoken or written. That’s because it’s our hearts, not our dictionaries, that give meaning to the things we say.
