The Power of a Name: Why Getting It Right Matters

Since I was two years old, it’s been second nature for me to correct people when they mispronounced my name. My mother taught me this lesson early on: if someone struggled with my name, that was their challenge, not mine. She knew right away that my name would be “one of those names,” the kind that might give people pause or trip them up on the first attempt. But she also taught me something invaluable — that my name was not a burden or inconvenience. It was my identity, and it deserved respect. She made sure I understood that I should accept nothing less than people addressing me by the name she gave me, the name that represented me. “Those who choose not to say it right are ignorant, lazy, or worse,” she would say, never mincing words.

Fast forward to the present. Recently, I’ve been on several interviews, and I’ve noticed something different from past professional experiences. Interviewers now seem more conscious, more intentional about the pronunciation of my name. If they make an attempt and get it wrong, they pause, double-check, and seek my guidance. They’ll ask, “Did I say it right?” or “Could you correct me?” Never once have I felt like they were pushing forward without ensuring I was comfortable with their pronunciation.

This has been a refreshing contrast to past experiences in my professional life, where it wasn’t uncommon to encounter colleagues — often people in positions of privilege — who thought nothing of mispronouncing, shortening, or even completely changing my name. It felt like they believed it was their prerogative, as though my name, and by extension, I, was too unimportant to merit the small effort it took to say it right. The discomfort this created lingered over countless professional settings, leaving a bitter taste. For them, learning my name seemed unnecessary, or not worth their time. For me, it was a reminder of how easily people dismiss and disrespect others through small, everyday interactions.

Last weekend, however, an unsettling experience reminded me that not everyone has embraced this shift toward respect. I work part-time, and in this role, many customers go out of their way to make sure they’re pronouncing my name correctly. They’ll pause, repeat it back, even ask me to say it slowly to get it right. But a woman I’ve worked with for over a year mispronounced my name four times in different conversations, despite being corrected three times. At first, I was patient. But after a point, it felt less like a simple mistake and more like a microaggression. I was caught between wanting to keep things cordial and feeling a growing sense of discontent. The indifference to getting my name right felt like disrespect, and it hurt.

It’s hard to explain to others why these small actions matter, but they do. For Black women like myself, situations like these become loaded. When I insist that my name be said correctly, I’m often seen as “difficult” or “aggressive.” My assertiveness in protecting my identity is often misinterpreted, my feelings dismissed as overreactions. Some even compare my experience to their own name challenges — “Oh, everyone has their name mispronounced once in a while!” they’ll say, casually brushing off the nuances of identity, heritage, and respect.

But it’s not the same. These comparisons only deepen the frustration, acting as another layer of microaggression. It minimizes my experience, equating the deliberate dismissal of my name with occasional slip-ups in pronunciation. Rather than seeking to understand why I feel the way I do, people sometimes brush it aside in an attempt to “keep the peace,” which only serves to protect the status quo instead of fostering true respect and allyship.

My name represents who I am. Each syllable carries a story, a legacy. So, when I ask people to pronounce it correctly, I’m not being difficult. I’m asking for the same respect that’s given freely to others. The smallest courtesy, like pausing to ask, “Did I say that right?” goes a long way toward making someone feel seen and valued. And when we fail to acknowledge these things — when we fail to correct our friends, colleagues, and even ourselves — we’re allowing small aggressions to persist, letting disrespect seep into our daily interactions.

So, to anyone who has ever been hesitant to ask for the right pronunciation of a name, know this: by getting it right, you’re honoring the person in front of you. You’re saying, “I see you, I value you, and I respect you.” It’s a simple act, but it speaks volumes. And to those of us who have a “complicated” or “different” name — never be afraid to correct. Stand tall, speak up, and be proud. After all, our names deserve nothing less.