The Book Of Dead Names

Going to get on the soapbox for a minnit. Going to be loud and profane and opinionated. Them what don't want to hear it, consider yourselves notified.

For those of you who care: You have a right to determine your feckin' name.

I have that right. You have that right. We all gots that right, every one of us.

I'm gonna pick on Michael Peters, 'cuz he's a sport with a sense of humor. He, like everyone else, has a right to determine what people call him. I know he does not like "Mike." Perhaps he wants you to call him "Mr. Peters." He prefers that I call him "Michael." And all of that's perfectly okay.

Someday, he might want people to call him "Dark Overlord Michael O'Kittensquisher, ravener of the night and eviscerator of the gods, dark overlord of Hell." And on that day, I might well tell him to go there and wait. But he has the right to at least determine what people will call him, even if it's goofy as hell.

I have strong feelings about this, because I grew up with people making fun of my name. It's bad enough when the first thing someone does upon meeting you is to make a joke out of your damn NAME, but I've met plenty who decided that I was an unpleasant person because I didn't like the joke, didn't want to participate in the joke, didn't find the joke funny after several thousand iterations, and most certainly didn't want to participate in the mockery of basic courtesy that occurs when you MAKE A FECKIN' JOKE OUT OF MY DAMN NAME!

Remember that, folks. I introduce myself, and the first thing you do is horselaugh about my hilarious name and mock me to my face about it? You might as well just hock up a loogie and spit in my eyes. As far as courtesy, manners, and first impressions go, it's essentially the same thing, and I don't care what your so-called intentions were.

Don't insist it was a joke. Don't try to softpedal it or laugh it off. You chose to be an ass to a person you just met, and you can damn well carry the consequences of that. And I've played this unpleasant game enough times that I WILL call you out on it.

All of you who just said, "Hey, pleased to meetcha," please consider yourselves exempt from this rant.

This brings us to "deadnames."

Like I said, you got rights. You can call yourself "Firstname," or "Lastname," or "Mr. Lastname," or even "Mr. Firstname;" I do just that at work. You can call yourself whatever the hell you want. It's your call, NOT MINE. Or anyone else's.

But it seems to me that if your name was Adolf, and you got tired of Hitler jokes, and you changed your name to Bob, and I kept following you around and making Hitler jokes and calling you a name you had discarded, this is essentially spitting in your face again. "You don't GET to be Bob! I demand that you are ADOLF! ADOLF FOREVER, because I SAID SO!"

And this is a thing you have no right to do. These are the words of someone who has chosen to be a major dick.

Trans folks often change their names. They take on new names to match the new identities and self-images they build, because they're tired of conforming to someone else's expectations. They want to make their OWN call, dammit. And it seems to me that the freedom to decide who you are is the most basic of all freedoms.

If you or a politician or some rando on the street gets to decide who I am, how free AM I? So if I'm not going to be a hypocrite, I need to give that same freedom to you and Bob Who Was Formerly Adolf, and John Wayne Who Was Formerly Marion Morrison, and every single trans person on the planet. It's all of us or none of us.

Speaking of trans folks, the picture below is of Jennell Jaquays, who was trans and out and proud. I never met her IRL, but we talked on Facebook quite a bit; I am privileged in that she was accessible as all hell and willing to be talkative and even chummy with some rando on the internet who happened to be me. I was and am a big fan of her work.

She died on the tenth of January, this year. I miss her. I miss our conversations on Facebook about her old work and whatever was going on with her at home and blah blah blah. I never met her, but I felt like I knew her, at least a little. Enough to feel the gut punch of knowing that the circle is smaller by one. Enough to miss her.

And it burns my biscuits to no damn end that she's gone, and that there seem to be no shortage of people out there who will acknowledge all the cool stuff she did and created and made... while deadnaming her to the dogs and back... either not understanding what that means... or just not caring.

I have a difficult time with people who spit in your face while saying, "I really admire your work, but I spit on you as a person." Because that's what it feels like. This post is too long already. I'm going to shut it off now. But before I do... just... don't be a sonofabitch, okay? Give folks the freedom to decide who they are, and what they're called, and don't show us all your ass by deadnaming someone who's gone, and can't call you out on it.

Okay? Because you're not deciding who they are. You're not deciding or declaring or forcing anything. All you're doing is showing us all what a prick you are.

Miss you, Jennell. I'm sorry I couldn't do better.