Recently, I came across a piece of paper in my son’s room. It was a list of students who were allowed to use the study room for a session that day. There were six names on the list. Everyone had their first and second name recorded, except my son. It was just his first name.
Now I wouldn’t normally comment on this; certainly not write a blog post about it.
You see, I am not what you would consider militant. I have made peace with the fact that the 1960’s or 70’s feminist would probably consider me a disgrace, because I don’t raise my fist in protest but prefer to keep my bra on, not singe it. (I must make a clear distinction between feminists of old and the modern day one, because feminism has become de rigueur, infact ‘celebrified’………….but I digress).
Indeed, activists would no doubt disdainfully spit me out, due to what may be seen as a lukewarm attitude to many of the intolerable injustices in the world. I assure you, I am not lukewarm, just measured in my approach.
However, this list that I came across did make my blood heat up, and by the time I thought about its true significance and implications………I was close to atmospheric! I asked my son if this has happened before. He said, always, as a matter of fact, every morning when the register is called, his surname somehow disappears from the list.
Our names should not be dropped off because of the effort to say them correctly.
We should not be belittled because of how letters in our names are arranged or pronounced.
We should not have our identities questioned.
We should not be expected to remain nameless.
We should be fully and correctly addressed.
Anything less is totally UNACCEPTABLE.