what’s in a name?

difficulty with my name, as you might imagine, isn’t unusual. a name like SHIA doesn’t go unnoticed; be it during the mutilation that happens in first learning it (to which my coaching ends up something like this: “like mia, only with an s-h”; “like sheila without the ‘l’”; “like she, as in ‘her’, only with an “uh” at the end”), or in the realization of its likeness to the as-seen-on-tv “chia pet,” the disney channel star “shia (pronounced shy-uh) laboeff,” the early eighties superwoman “she-ra,” or the hypersensitivity of post 911 americans to “shia,” as in “shia muslims.”

at this point in my life, though, i would like to think i am immune to the hurt feelings that used to come along with the chiding and name maiming. to some extent, i am. but to another, i realized recently that the converse is true. that i am more sensitive now than ever. whether they are nicknames of endearment or birth names or chosen names, they are who we are. and to not acknowledge a person by her name, by his moniker, feels, to me, like a DISservice.

so… what had happent wuz… nearly a year ago, a director whom i greatly admired could not grasp my name; just couldn’t seem to hold it in her mouth. so i jokingly became, “this one” or “that child… you know who you are,” or the one she pointed to with flitting eyes and a shaking hand, trying to force my name from the recesses of her brain. (“shia!” the collective tossed like a dozen lifesavers into a wading pool.)

several months after that, a beloved mentor had a momentary lapse that, in the wake of the “shia!” incident, i refused to allow myself to feel slighted by. interestingly, though, his response to the misprint (of my name in an autograph) was a poem that melted me into a river of tears. “a name for shia shabazz.” and he had NO awareness of the prior incident. only a deep understanding of the importance of my name in that moment. that’s how the universe works. for reasons like these, i continue to stand in awe of, but never question, his brilliance. you can only find brilliance like that when you are engaged with the world in this way, right? i aspire, man.

so yesterday when i was on the phone with someone who, for some reason in the moment, could not manage my son’s name, i begged myself not to obsess about it. but, because this person has long been a part of my life, how could he not properly acknowledge flesh of my flesh? initially, i was struck by the mispronunciation like a tiny rock might star a windshield. but as i sat with it, the tiny chip slithered across the glass into an arm’s length fracture. what does this say about the closeness i romanticized in my head? still true? a figment? he was deeply apologetic (and forgive him… no doubt) but i didn’t want an apology. i wanted to believe again that the people/things that were important to me, were not necessarily AS important to him, but that they were at least worth the sixty seconds it might take to roll a person’s name around on your tongue and give it the just due of correct pronunciation. better yet, i wanted back the moment just before, when i felt like i was important a person enough in his life to know my children’s names as prominently as he knew mine.

call it the lasting effect of middle child syndrome. the identity reclamation of a divorcee. being a woman. being black. hell, being a temperamental artist. not quite sure which answer best fits... or take them all. (they are all valid, right?) but my na’im (pronounced ny-eem, which in arabic means “blessing), my blessing—the tummy-rubbing momma’s boy that he is, will undoubtedly stamp this world with the quiet, loving ways that are uniquely him.

today i am trying to recover myself and my relationship but it’s slow going. old habits (of over-sensitivity) die hard. i am trying to adhere to my resolution. (stop obsessing, start affecting.) this is an opportunity for growth on my part, i know. life can be dizzying. and because i may forget a name, doesn't lesson the impact on a life or the love in a heart, right? someday i am going to forget a name and i am sure i'll pray for mercy because of it. to me, it is important to acknowledge a rose as a rose. and always, ALWAYS, a na’im as a na’im.

fa-evah, fa- evah-evah, fa-evah-evah…