As it turns out, there are a few things in a name.
First off, it's something my parents took a long time to think about and decide. They didn't consult baby-name books, looking for the most popular boy's name from a time they wanted me to emulate. And thank god, cuz that would mean they wanted me to be a father to all nations... or as a replacement for somebody else.
It's also a ground-in part of my identity. Every time I hear it or read it, I am overtaken by a surprisingly broad range of thoughts and feelings. The first is, of course, somebody's trying to get my attention; if not, then they're talking about me; if not, then they're talking about somebody else who has a name that - until recently - was kind of unusual.
There's another side to all this. You might be surprised to hear this, but I used to be really negative. And this has a source beyond simple chemical imbalance. There's a question of chicken and egg here, but I actually think mental illness is triggered by some kind of catalyst in a person's life (more on this soon).
The point I'm getting to is this: When I hear my name, the fourth thing that comes to the front of my mind is, "Fuck, am I sick of hearing that shit."
For a lot of years, I heard my name spoken to me with condescension, derision, sarcasm, even hate. I don't know if it was warranted. Nobody ever told me why they used it like that. Why should they? It's part of the torment I guess, whether I deserved it or not.
After all, I always say "Children are dogs," and I was a child for much of that time. But anyway...
Even now, when I hear my name spoken - even with respect or love - I still hear the derision, and I still feel the same shit I felt when I heard it back then.
It isn't the fault of the speaker anymore, but I still resent them for it.
It isn't my fault, but I still feel dehumanized by it.
The solution is as simple as it is insulting to my family's efforts:
Change the name. And I'm about to.
There isn't really any question of what to change it to. A few years ago some people started calling me Duke, and I'm cool with that. There is a certain crooked appeal in carrying on the name for the alter-ego of that Great American Patriot.
Seriously. I'd rather be associated with the drug-fueled ravings of a potential maniac (may he rest in peace) than answer to a name that fills me with resentment and sadness. The combination can be surprisingly volatile.
It hasn't been all bad of course. I've heard my name spoken with love, respect, even admiration once in a while. And also under circumstances best left described as ...uh... It was fun. For some unfortunate reason, those aren't the moments I remember when I hear the name.
Back when my name was being poisoned, people knew me as a certain kind of kid. I've referred to this sort of kid before, so there's no need to go into detail. Point is, that was time enough ago that I am now a completely different person. My body has regenerated at least twice since then, and I've been through the proverbial mill enough to have much prejudice and naivete ground right out of me, along with the ill-founded opinions and beliefs that went with them.
Most of those opinions and beliefs have been replaced by other (read: equally ill-founded) opinions and beliefs. These ones I can claim for my own though, since some of myself has gone into them, rather than the simple regurgitation of doctrine we all go through.
In short, these people don't know me anymore. I was never very good at keeping in touch, and I guess the same can be said of most of them. Through a certain social network, I've re-established contact with some old friends. We've had to get reacquainted, since I'm not the only one who's been through some changes. A few have not liked what they found with the new me. And I can say the same of one or two of them, who may have been free-minded and open people when we were kids, but who have somehow turned into what I was as a child. So forget em.
Anyway, people are confused and put off when I ask them to stop calling me by the name they implicitly associate with my face, voice, sense of humor, etc. I can understand that. One of my siblings recently asked that we stop referring to her as "him." It was confusing at first, and constantly forgetting is frustrating for all parties concerned. And there's a name-change on the horizon for her as well. She might be looking at a much more comprehensive transformation some time. My point here is that I can kind of sympathize with my friends who are puzzled by my need to change my name.
And then there's my family. Parents in particular. I could tell their feelings were hurt when I told them. Like I said, they put a lot of thought into this. I took that apart in less than 30 seconds.
Every parent has to have this conversation with their kid. In some cases, it's the kid saying "I don't want to be a doctor or a lawyer or a priest. I want to dance/act/sing/paint." Sometimes it's "Mom & Dad, you know that person I live with who's the same sex as me? Well... We're not roommates." Sometimes it's a son saying "I'm not an outdoors-man, Dad. I like to bake and knit and stay at home with the kids." Or a daughter coming out with "Mom, I will never ever need to know how to crochet. I'll be too busy teaching archeology and digging up ancient civilizations anyway." Could even be something as simple as "Beer isn't my thing. I'd rather smoke weed. But thanks for offering." Yes, these conversations are still happening. By the thousands.
This is a pretty superficial change in that light.
Maybe it's weakness on my part. All of this could be the result of flawed human perception, as seen through the window of mental illness.
You should be able to embrace & reclaim your own name. It's reasonable to think you can get over the past and move on with the present. You would think a name as cool as mine would be consolation enough. You might say "It's a great name. Carrying it on would be a tribute to both your ancestors and your namesake. You're going to confuse everybody who knows you by that name. You need to accept what you are and move on."
And you would be wrong. In a case like this, the objective reality doesn't actually matter. In a case like this, it's a question of one man's perception, and whether or not anybody has any respect for him.
In other words, call me Duke if you want me to reply.
If you don't care, call me whatever you want. Without malice, I won't pay it any mind.
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