Jasper? That is a white name.
Jasper Little,
Chesapeake, VA.
A lot of people are also very surprised the way I sound, they say I sound white.
I look white…privileged and disrespected
Natalie Eashoo,
Grand Blanc, MI
At first glance, I look white. I am Middle Eastern and European. Looking white and having a “white name” has given me a very privileged life. When people have found out or realized that I am middle eastern, I have received very hurtful comments.
You’re foreign. Not American. No way.
Franke Santos,
Los Angeles, CA.
Despite being born in the U.S., speaking only English, and being given a white-sounding name, I am routinely asked “where are you from?” When I respond, “Los Angeles,” I get the follow-up “where are you really from?”
I hide in my Anglo-Franco name.
Eleanor Williams
Maplewood, NJ
My name is white, my skin is dark. Torn between my minority & majority roots I don’t know who I am.
My name is Jamaal; I’m white.
Jamaal Allan,
USA.
Listen to Jamaal’s story on NPR’s Morning Edition
What’s in a Name?
The Poetry Question-Discovering the Relevance of Words
As a white male, a majority of majorities, I can’t talk about race. I’m not qualified to.
Race isn’t an issue for me, right? Life is easy; things are handed to me. My cup runneth over and my invisible knapsack is packed.
But isn’t hiding behind the privilege of my race just as debilitating as hiding behind the stereotypes of another? Isn’t an implied guilt based on race a form of racism?
So tell me again how great it is to be white as I reapply my sunscreen, struggle to execute even the most basic two-step, and consistently wind up on the wrong side of history…
My personal experiences with race can really only be boiled down to two stereotypes. One, the aforementioned white privilege I was granted at birth, and two, my name.
What could a name possibly have to do with race? Good question. What’s in a name? Better question.
Whether we like it or not, whether we admit it or not, our names are our first labels. More than ever, in today’s world, our names are our representatives we send forward to meet people prior to face to face- whether by email, text message, an electronic application, match dot com, or the increasingly rare phone call. What’s in a name? A lot.
My name is Jamaal; I’m white.
Growing up I never thought twice about my name (of course I was next door to a commune, hanging out with Orly, Oshia, Lark Song, River Rocks, Sky Blue, and more than one Rainbow).
In a high school soccer game I was called “a white man with a [horrific racial expletive deleted] name”.
In January of 2002 I flew to London. I was randomly selected for additional passenger screening. It was me, Muhammad, Abdul, Tariq, and an old white haired lady named Jenny Smith. Seriously. I’m not sure what was faster, Jenny Smith’s pat down or the dropping of the TSA agent’s face when I responded to the name Jamaal.
When I went to a time share presentation in Vegas (just to tell them no and get my free show tickets of course), the randomly selected sales agent who came calling my name looked was a bald version of Cedric the Entertainer in a white suit, Versace sunglasses, and alligator shoes.
The most frequently asked question is, “how did you get the name Jamaal?” I usually say something about a Ouija board or a heated game of Boggle that put my mother into labor. The letters just sort of fell randomly in that order. “How did you get the name Jamaal?” Well, it all started many years ago before the Coyote howled at the moon…
I got my name the same way you did. Somewhere between birth and leaving the hospital my parents wrote it on my birth certificate.
I know what people want to say. They want to stammer like the South African from Lethal Weapon 2 and say, “but… but… but… you’re WHITE.”
But they don’t.
Instead they say things like, “I never would’ve guessed your name was Jamaal.” Really, are you frequently good at guessing people’s names?
“You don’t look like a Jamaal.” And how exactly does one look like a name? Unless your name is Rose and you are overly-rubicund it’s highly unlikely you look like your name either. What if I smile larger, now do I look like a Jamaal or is this more of a Derek smile? How does a Walter express confusion, should I raise my eyebrow higher?
When people have seen my name before they’ve seen my face, I get “OH – you’re Jamaal.” Yes, I am, and the African American behind me is Chris.
It is not uncommon for people to follow up with, “I expected you to be –”and then there’s a pause; a sudden realization they are on the verge of sounding racist. There’s a look—not quite ‘deer in the headlights’, but it is a definite freeze. What to say next? I’ve heard several: taller, older, different (usually accompanied with an uncomfortable chuckle).
Very few people have the courage to say darker.
Several people have told me that Jamaal is a black name. It’s not. It’s an Arabic name. Arabic is a language, not a color.
Halfway through my first year teaching, the principal who had hired me confided that I was lucky to have gotten the job. I agreed, I had watched a majority of my classmates from grad school go from job fair to job fair and interview to interview, whereas I had been able to parlay my student-teaching directly into a job in the same school with only one interview.
That wasn’t what he meant. They had not been planning to take another student-teacher when my application showed up. But, in his words, as he scanned through it and saw a Jamaal who plays basketball and counts Muhammad Ali among his heroes he thought, we could use a little diversity.
Sorry to disappoint you.
So, no, as a white man, a majority of majorities, from a small rural town in Southern Oregon with a high school of around 400 and two black and two Hispanic families, I don’t know a lot about race. I do, however, know a little about stereotyping.
Join the conversation on Twitter about this TRENDING topic:
Tweets about My Name Is Jamaal
Jasper? That is a white name.
Jasper Little,
Chesapeake, VA.
A lot of people are also very surprised the way I sound, they say I sound white.
Dwayne Fries; the other white Dwayne.
Dwayne Lee Fries,
Columbus, OH.
My name is Dwayne, and I’m white. Hi Dwayne!
I was unwittingly named Dwayne.
Two weeks before my taking over an inner city restaurant as a General Manager, my name was on a schedule. I heard all the stories of how everyone was like, “finally, we got a brother in charge!” Then my arrival day, “They got us again!”
I’ve served in the US Navy as an electronics technician and the US Air Force as an electrical and pneumatic technician. I’ve put in thousands of resumes and applications for more than a decade. I refuse to put I’m white on it. None of the thousands have amounted to anything. Most notable, one response came back with “While your experience is impressive, we are seeking candidates with a different background.”
I had all of the credentials to do that job easily. my background was military experience, which is illegal to discriminate against, and my black name, Dwayne.
I’m Pavla Pletkova. And I’m black.
Pavla Pletkova,
VA.
Looking at my picture you could never tell. Listening to me speak you could never tell. What I’ve been told is I look like a “regular light skinned black girl”. But little do they know I’m far from regular.
As far as I know, I have never met another Czech-Ghanaian person, well, except for my younger brother. I was born in the Czech and am fluent. Growing up I never realized the dynamics of my unique situation.
As I got older, I found out that having a “white” name had some advantages: I get called back for interviews, apparently more than I “should”. I have been told more than once in an interview (queue the HR generalists), “oh,….nice to meet you. I was expecting a 6 foot white European girl”. Welp, you got a 5’9″ one!
But I also found out that not looking the part, was sometimes a disadvantage: I was once told by a classmate during my undergraduate years, that the only reason one of several big companies was recruiting me was because I was black and a female.
So even though i am not one ounce African-American, because of my looks, I get treated like a black female in America gets treated, and because of that I sympathize with the black experience in America.
Nickname Joe real name is Jose
Jose,
Sanger, CA.
My name is Jose im 17 years old as a child growing up in school I was called by Joe by my peers. Ever sense kindergarden my teachers and friends called me Ioe I never knew why until now. I’m a Mexican-American but my skin color is more on the lighter side. Many people ask me what race am I, I ask them what you think and I get white as a response. I learned that me being so light that people call me Joe because I look white many people think my name is Joe but then when they hear my real name they get shocked. Joe is a more white name that usally white people have. My grandparents came from Mexico and I don’t know why I’m so light but I am but I’m not asamed on who I am I’m proud that my full real name is Jose Vincent Ramirez and not Joe that everyone think it is.
NPR’s Morning Edition features: ‘My Name Is Jamaal … I’m White’
Jamaal Allan,
USA.
Listen to Jamaal’s story on NPR’s Morning Edition
What’s in a Name?
The Poetry Question-Discovering the Relevance of Words
As a white male, a majority of majorities, I can’t talk about race. I’m not qualified to.
Race isn’t an issue for me, right? Life is easy; things are handed to me. My cup runneth over and my invisible knapsack is packed.
But isn’t hiding behind the privilege of my race just as debilitating as hiding behind the stereotypes of another? Isn’t an implied guilt based on race a form of racism?
So tell me again how great it is to be white as I reapply my sunscreen, struggle to execute even the most basic two-step, and consistently wind up on the wrong side of history…
My personal experiences with race can really only be boiled down to two stereotypes. One, the aforementioned white privilege I was granted at birth, and two, my name.
What could a name possibly have to do with race? Good question. What’s in a name? Better question.
Whether we like it or not, whether we admit it or not, our names are our first labels. More than ever, in today’s world, our names are our representatives we send forward to meet people prior to face to face- whether by email, text message, an electronic application, match dot com, or the increasingly rare phone call. What’s in a name? A lot.
My name is Jamaal; I’m white.
Growing up I never thought twice about my name (of course I was next door to a commune, hanging out with Orly, Oshia, Lark Song, River Rocks, Sky Blue, and more than one Rainbow).
In a high school soccer game I was called “a white man with a [horrific racial expletive deleted] name”.
In January of 2002 I flew to London. I was randomly selected for additional passenger screening. It was me, Muhammad, Abdul, Tariq, and an old white haired lady named Jenny Smith. Seriously. I’m not sure what was faster, Jenny Smith’s pat down or the dropping of the TSA agent’s face when I responded to the name Jamaal.
When I went to a time share presentation in Vegas (just to tell them no and get my free show tickets of course), the randomly selected sales agent who came calling my name looked was a bald version of Cedric the Entertainer in a white suit, Versace sunglasses, and alligator shoes.
The most frequently asked question is, “how did you get the name Jamaal?” I usually say something about a Ouija board or a heated game of Boggle that put my mother into labor. The letters just sort of fell randomly in that order. “How did you get the name Jamaal?” Well, it all started many years ago before the Coyote howled at the moon…
I got my name the same way you did. Somewhere between birth and leaving the hospital my parents wrote it on my birth certificate.
I know what people want to say. They want to stammer like the South African from Lethal Weapon 2 and say, “but… but… but… you’re WHITE.”
But they don’t.
Instead they say things like, “I never would’ve guessed your name was Jamaal.” Really, are you frequently good at guessing people’s names?
“You don’t look like a Jamaal.” And how exactly does one look like a name? Unless your name is Rose and you are overly-rubicund it’s highly unlikely you look like your name either. What if I smile larger, now do I look like a Jamaal or is this more of a Derek smile? How does a Walter express confusion, should I raise my eyebrow higher?
When people have seen my name before they’ve seen my face, I get “OH – you’re Jamaal.” Yes, I am, and the African American behind me is Chris.
It is not uncommon for people to follow up with, “I expected you to be –”and then there’s a pause; a sudden realization they are on the verge of sounding racist. There’s a look—not quite ‘deer in the headlights’, but it is a definite freeze. What to say next? I’ve heard several: taller, older, different (usually accompanied with an uncomfortable chuckle).
Very few people have the courage to say darker.
Several people have told me that Jamaal is a black name. It’s not. It’s an Arabic name. Arabic is a language, not a color.
Halfway through my first year teaching, the principal who had hired me confided that I was lucky to have gotten the job. I agreed, I had watched a majority of my classmates from grad school go from job fair to job fair and interview to interview, whereas I had been able to parlay my student-teaching directly into a job in the same school with only one interview.
That wasn’t what he meant. They had not been planning to take another student-teacher when my application showed up. But, in his words, as he scanned through it and saw a Jamaal who plays basketball and counts Muhammad Ali among his heroes he thought, we could use a little diversity.
Sorry to disappoint you.
So, no, as a white man, a majority of majorities, from a small rural town in Southern Oregon with a high school of around 400 and two black and two Hispanic families, I don’t know a lot about race. I do, however, know a little about stereotyping.
Join the conversation on Twitter about this TRENDING topic:
Tweets about My Name Is Jamaal
My name sounds black, I’m not.
Lynea Ramse,
Nashville, TN.
My name is pronounced La-nee-a. I have been grouped with black girls all my life in settings where people haven’t met me, just seen my name and where I’m from. I didn’t realize until college when all of the girls with “black names” ended up as roommates…
People have also asked my boyfriend or my employees if I’m black after hearing my name.
Its normal for me.
BTW, my name is Scandinavian.
“M’ pa rele blanc,” I replied.
Emily S.,
Baltimore, MD.
A phrase in Haitian Kreyol which means, literally, “I’m not called ‘White'” or “My name is not ‘White”. It was a phrase I became accustom to shouting back to calls of “Blanc, Blanc, Blanc” everywhere I went, by Haitian children and adults alike. I almost hadn’t noticed my skin color up until then…until it was my identifier and proclaimed for all to hear.
People were always good natured about my response though. They would ask me what my name was, so in the future they would just shout my name when I passed. I love Haiti, but I will never feel completely comfortable there, due to all that transpired on the island in the last 200+ years. I don’t think I should feel comfortable.
