What's in a name? For the most part, we are given our names by our parents. As we get older, we may or may not like those names. If we don't, we can either change our names (whether legally or just socially) or make use of whatever wiggle room is inherent in the names we were blessed or cursed with. For example, the name on your birth certificate may be associated with numerous nicknames, or you can construct your own. You may have several given names and your preference may be to use a middle name rather than a first name. Or initials. Whatever.

Most parents do their best to choose names that will not cause their children undue embarrassment as they get older. But we can't always predict the connotations that certain names will have, five or ten or twenty years down the road.

In this country, many of my generation will recall the 1980 Quebec referendum on sovereignty, when Québecoises who preferred the status quo were disparagingly referred to as "Yvettes", obedient little housewives who would stand by their men and reject Quebec's bold, assertive move towards self-determination.

And what parent could have predicted that naming a child after a goddess of wisdom could be seen as anything but positive? Until ISIL came along, that is. Then we get the Handmaid's Tale and the Marthas - "Martha" being a rather popular name in our northern indigenous communities. Coincidence or not?

With the resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement, we've seen an arbitrary denigration of the name Karen. You know, when I first heard somebody described as a "Karen", I honestly thought the reference was to that minority ethnic group prevalent in some parts of the world, places like Burma (or Myanmar if you prefer).

But no. It's a derogatory term for a middle-aged, middle-class woman, inevitably white, who acts as if she considers herself better or more entitled than her black counterparts. The woman who calls 911 if a black person does not immediately shift so she can maintain the requisite 2 metres of distance when passing by on a bridge. Or the woman in Montclair, New Jersey, who aggressively demanded to know if her black neighbours had the requisite permits authorizing the construction going on in their back yard:

https://www.thecut.com/article/montclair-new-jersey-permit-karen.html?utm_source=pocket-newtab

But clearly there are black and other BIPOC people who are named Karen too. And on the two occasions I remember being in Montclair, it struck me as a perfectly pleasant community.

It's unfortunate when perfectly good names are suddenly perceived as bad.

What can we do about it? Not much, probably.

In a future post, I'll talk about other words and phrases that have taken on new meanings or connotations over the last year or so.
I'm a racialized person. And so are you. From the moment I was conceived as an embryo, I was part of a race - the human race. Not yet a human being maybe, but certainly a being in progress.

Racism is definitely a hot topic these days. And with it comes the ongoing discussion about the terminology we should use to describe someone whose skin is not light in colour.

Black. African Canadian (or Afro-Canadian). Person of colour. Visible minority. Or the one that's rapidly gaining ground - racialized. I'm limiting myself here to terms that most people consider fairly polite and which may even have some official status. Of course, some of those terms are more specific than others, and I'm not going to even begin to enumerate all the various words in use to describe Canada's indigenous peoples.

I think mostly what bothers me about the term "racialized" is that it implies some sort of a choice on somebody's part. Like in the book Black Like Me where somebody deliberately darkens his skin to get a taste of what it's like to be a Black American. Or if that same person were to decide that he had a black brain or was black at heart and chose to undergo a kind of race affirmation surgery. Or even if it were imposed by someone else, as in a country under apartheid where everyone must be designated at birth as black or white or mixed-race or whatever. But that's not how we typically use the word "racialized".

One of the books I read in the past week was Robert Goldston's The Negro Revolution, written in 1968. After a brief prologue it starts with the slave trade in the mid 17th century and traces the history of black America through to 1968, just after the killing of Martin Luther King. I'd love to read a sequel to that book outlining the events of the past 50+ years!

It would also be interesting to read about Canadian developments over that same time period. People like Viola Desmond, who now graces our ten-dollar bills (though how much longer we'll be able to use cash at all, even post-pandemic, is an open question). Or even the infamous Peter Russell, who apparently was vehemently opposed to the abolition of slavery, and after whom the town and township of Russell (and presumably Russell Road as well) were named.

But let's get back to "racialized". I suppose up to a point, people should be allowed to self-identify in whatever way they choose. But you certainly can't please all the people all the time.

I don't particularly identify with the term "white" although if I have to tick a box on an official form, I've never rebelled in any way. I mean, even an albino doesn't necessarily have pure white skin.

So how exactly would I describe myself? English Canadian? Anglo-Canadian? Euro-Canadian or European Canadian? Maybe even Viking if those saliva tests have any validity?

It's a thorny issue and not one that easily lends itself to neat discrete categories.
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