Why I’m done with people giving me a nickname without my permission
It’s not my name and I’m fed up that, even as adults, we’re still normalising this behaviour (Picture: Jeremy Ullmann)
‘Alright Jezza!’ Called a colleague as they walked past me, and I sighed, exasperated.
I had mentioned, at least a couple times now, how I didn’t like the name ‘Jezza’. I had even given them a few nicknames that I preferred instead. But clearly this colleague was intent on ignoring my wishes.
Politely I smiled back but really I felt uncomfortable and frustrated.
That’s the thing about nicknames. Whether it’s a bit of banter or even an act of love, for many people our names are deeply personal to us.
In this case, it wasn’t just that I don’t like ‘Jezza’, it’s that I had already told them as much.
It’s not my name and I’m fed up that, even as adults, we’re still normalising this behaviour.
I never used to feel this way.
When I was a kid, a friend calling me ‘Jez’ or someone merging my first and surname into ‘Jullmann’ felt like badges of respect. It was like that person was forging a connection with me, inviting me into their friendship group.
In many ways, I loved it.
When your parents and family gave you a nickname (mine was Jem Jem), it felt sweet and comforting.
At the age of 12, you care about popularity and being part of a group so when someone calls you J-man, you know you’ve made it – you’re in the cool club.
Yet, at the same time, there were other nicknames I didn’t like. Some were made with the kind of malice you only find on a playground. ‘Froggy’ once became a popular way to refer to my half-French background. An inventive ‘Jemima Puddle-Duck’ also made the rounds in primary school.
In secondary school, I began to be called names relating to how skinny I was, or how my ears stuck out.
Friends I’ve spoken to have memories of bullies in their class calling them names, names which were often just not quite bad enough to tell the teacher, and even if you did, you’d be accused of grassing.
Having to tolerate those insults began to grate on me.
Now, there’s obviously a difference between the nicknames given to you by your friends as a sign of affection and those imposed upon you by bullies in order to single you out and hurt you. But at the same time, they both involve somebody else deciding what your name should be – rarely with permission.
There was a point in my early twenties when I realised I didn’t feel the same way about nicknames as I did when I was 12. There was no big revelation, it just dawned on me that I didn’t like other people deciding what my name should be.
‘Jezza’, ‘Jer’ and ‘Jerms’ just didn’t sound like me when people called me them, and I’d never been asked if I could be called them.
When I started to tell people who called me those names that I didn’t like them and preferred something else, most stopped immediately with an automatic acceptance that made me wish I had said something earlier.
It changed my attitude towards giving my friends nicknames too – now, I ask.
Not everyone stopped though. Some, strangely, kept at it.
Like my former colleague, who persistently, I suppose out of amusement, continued with ‘Jezza’. It didn’t matter that I had told them directly I didn’t like it. Their decision that it was banter to them seemed to validate it.
With maturity you begin to realise that when someone keeps doing something towards you despite you asking them not to, it isn’t dramatic to call that disrespect. And someone thinking that they have the right to call you whatever they want (even if it’s out of love), is not respecting your identity.
Names have always played such an important role in our lives. They can carry so many aspects of who we are and identify as, from personal, family, culture, gender, caste and class.
Some discriminate against others based on their names, and many gender-questioning people find relief in changing their name to reflect their identity better.
Despite that, for some reason we’ve normalised other people’s right to call us what they want.
Yet, the problem is, it feels and sounds rude and over-dramatic to call people out for it or to make a deal of what we want to be called.
I felt this too when I started to ask people to stop, but now (especially seeing how graciously most people take it), it feels so easy to ask.
We talk about permission for so many other interactions we have with others, whether that’s physical touch, giving someone advice or to share information someone has told you in confidence, but for something as deeply personal as peoples’ names, asking for permission isn’t really something we do.
To clarify, I don’t think friends giving you nicknames without your consent is the worst thing here – far from it – but it is an example of a behaviour which we do without thinking much about its impact.
Call it woke if you want, but not considering how our words and actions can impact others is insensitive at best and malicious at worst.
And the worst can be awful.
For example, think about the severe lack of respect at play when an English speaker gives a non-English name an Anglophiled nickname. Like when a former manager of mine who seemingly didn’t struggle with the word ‘onomatopoeia’ but found ‘Mahmoud’ too difficult so gave him an English name instead. Despite our shock, they laughed it off.
Or the very common form of transphobia today when transphobes deliberately deadname and misgender trans people.
Of course, broadly, I’m not against nicknames.
Just be polite and ask my permission first, or even better – ask me what I like to be called.