There’s a name on my birth certificate

Given to me by my parents

The name they used until

I said ‘Stop.”

I hated that name.

It signaled inferiority.

It marked me as different.

I tolerated it.

My teachers taught me to write it.

Each letter carefully formed

At first in print, but then cursive

One letter looping into the next

When I got brave, in my teens,

I demanded a different name.

Not so different,

Just a nickname with many of the same letters.

That name defines me.

I’m not the formal, sophisticated person

Bearing my birth name,

But an athlete, a sports fan.

I use that name everywhere

Except on formal documents.

Even my doctor’s office

Calls me by my preferred name.

Claiming my name is powerful.

It strengthens me.

Gives me the ability to say who I am

And who I intend to be.

Claim your name.