What's in a Name?

Several years ago, when I was working as a college professor in a teacher education department, I told my students (some of you were there!) about some little-known pioneers in the field that I had uncovered through my historical research.

As usual, I could barely keep from crying when I said out loud the names of the four African American women­ who were Philadelphia’s first Black kindergarten teachers (and as far as current scholarship tells us, also the first Black kindergarten teachers in the United States.)

Why did it feel absolutely essential to me that my students hear these names out loud? That I speak them out loud? Why did doing so bring up such powerful emotion? 

I’m still figuring this out, but something in me — and probably in you too —knows that names matter.

Speaking a name—and speaking it correctly—matters.

As I ponder this question of the importance of names, I think of a movie I saw—I’m not even sure what it was—in which a character shouted, “Say my name!” 

I think of the cover of a book on my shelf about the experiences of Black men in the U.S. The title is “Speak my name!”

I think of a video I watched on Facebook in which multiple people shared the story of having their names constantly mispronounced—or worse, changed to “something easier” because they were viewed as being too difficult to pronounce—by white English speakers.

I think about the fact that all my students know the name “George Washington,” but none know the names of the people I study, who are mostly either women or African Americans (or both), and children. 

One reason that my students know George Washington and not those I study is because he was famous and held a position that only a few have held over many decades. There is, after all, just one president at a time and thousands of teachers—but as I’m sure you realize, that’s not the only reason they know George Washington’s name and not the names of these four women.

Whether names are remembered or forgotten has a lot to do with respect.

It’s about who is deemed important enough to make knowing their name important, and of course that is not disconnected from who has access to positions of power and influence.

As women and African Americans, these four women I mentioned had no shot at being president when Washington was elected.

And more recent events in U.S. elections demonstrate how much race and gender bias remains deeply embedded in our culture.

As a collective, we are more comfortable electing highly unqualified white men to positions of power than women or Black people, let alone a woman who is also Black and South East Asian.

Among a number of other roles, I am a historian and often I have felt ashamed of my tendency to spend time doing historical research. It seems so impractical, so insignificant. Compared to changing the world by reforming laws and societies in practical ways, what do I have to offer. 

Well, one thing historians do is uncover names—and the stories of the lives they represent. 

Historians of the past few decades have done a lot of work uncovering hidden stories, stories of those deemed unimportant …

• stories of people in brown and black bodies who persisted and found joy and expressed their power and creativity in a culture that actively sought to suppress both, justifying these actions by claiming that non-whites weren’t fully human.

• stories of women in a culture that has viewed the female sex as incapable of significant thought or leadership, not capable of voting, of managing our own finances, or making incredibly difficult decisions about our bodies and sex and parenting.

• stories of children, whose activities, emotions, and perspectives are constantly deemed trivial and insignificant in comparison to the activities of adults. Ever heard (or said) “Come on now, it’s not that bad. Wait until you're an adult, then you’ll have real problems.”

Telling stories of those whose stories are hidden is work that I am proud to continue.

FUN FACT: Did you know there's even a new center at the Smithsonian National Museum of American History that is dedicated to Restorative History?

Do you know the names of America's first Black Kindergarten Teachers?

Because of my research, I — and you if you so choose — can honor the lives and work of four women who, because of their race and their gender, and also because of their vocation working with young children, were deemed “not worth remembering.” 

I invite you to pause and say their names out loud.

Annay Alger.

Mamie Lindsey.

Nettie Steward.

Annie Young.

America's first Black kindergarten teachers. I am so proud of these women, these pioneers of early education. 

Then say your own name out loud and claim your emerging story as you do.

Here’s to thriving and equity, and telling untold stories - including yours,

Deb 

P.S. Shauna James Ahern is a guide and support for women who are ready to experiment with telling their stories (and she has a workshop coming up to help you do so - just $47). 

She recently shared the following words in an email:

"If you are a woman diagnosed late-in-life with ADHD (or autism or another neurospicy brain type), you might have spent much of your life running, trying to keep up, pretending that you had it all together to please everyone else, 

or, if you were raised in a high-intensity religion, where your voice was silenced and you were told to think one way and one way only,

or, if you're a woman in perimenopause or you're postmenopausal, and you're realizing just how much time you wasted by trying to meet the demands of a culture that told you what to do . . . then the election results might have been deeply dysregulating for you . . .

Writing down the details of your life — including the story of your fears and small joys today — can ground you . . . Your stories matter." 

I agree. I’d love to hear yours if you want to share. Hit reply and I promise to read and respond personally.

P.S.S. I’ve had Jon Batiste’s track Freedom on repeat lately. If you want to shake your body and make room for more joy, I recommend a listen wherever you access music - and watch the video too - for inspiration. I dare you not to feel better afterwards. These are hard times and we are resilient. Joy helps.