Names are weird. They are these tiny, phonetic labels we carry around from birth, yet they hold an almost irrational amount of weight in how we perceive ourselves and others. When someone looks you in the eye and says, "call me my name," they aren't usually just being pedantic about a syllable or a vowel. They are asking for a basic level of visibility. It's about dignity. Honestly, in a world where we’re increasingly filtered through digital avatars and cold email threads, the simple act of using a person's preferred name—pronounced correctly—is becoming a radical act of empathy.
You’ve probably been there. Maybe you have a "difficult" name that people constantly butcher, or perhaps you’ve transitioned and adopted a name that actually fits who you are. Or maybe you're just tired of being "Hey you" or "Bud." Whatever the case, the psychology behind name usage is deep, messy, and surprisingly scientific.
The Neuroscience of Hearing Your Own Name
Brain scans don't lie. Research published in the journal Brain Research shows that there is unique brain activation when we hear our own names. It's not just the auditory cortex firing off. The middle frontal gyrus and the superior temporal gyrus light up like a Christmas tree. These are areas associated with self-representation and social identity.
Basically, your name is a "self-referential" stimulus. When someone uses it, your brain perks up. It says, "Oh, this is about me." This is why "call me my name" is such a powerful request. You aren't just asking for a label; you're asking the other person to engage with your actual identity. When someone uses a nickname you hate or refuses to learn a "foreign" pronunciation, they are effectively dimming that neurological spark. They are saying your identity is too much work for them.
It’s exhausting.
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Think about the workplace. A study by Dr. Ranjit Singh regarding "name-based microaggressions" highlights how often people with non-Western names feel marginalized. If a manager avoids calling on someone because they’re afraid to mispronounce a name like Xochitl or Chukwuebuka, they aren't just being shy. They are denying that person a seat at the table. They are creating an environment where "call me my name" becomes a battle cry for inclusion rather than a casual request.
When "Call Me My Name" Becomes a Conflict
It isn't always about ethnicity or culture, though. Sometimes it’s about power.
Take the service industry. We’ve all seen the customer who treats a server like a machine. Using a server's name—read off a nametag—can go two ways. It can be a gesture of humanization, or it can be a weird, paternalistic power move. Context matters. But generally, when a person says, "Actually, please call me [Name]," they are reclaiming their personhood in a transactional space.
Then there is the issue of "deadnaming." In the LGBTQ+ community, specifically for transgender and non-binary individuals, the request to be called by a specific name is a matter of mental health and safety. According to a 2018 study in the Journal of Adolescent Health, chosen name use is linked to lower levels of depressive symptoms and suicidal ideation among transgender youth. This isn't just about "pronouns" or "identity politics." It’s about the fundamental human right to define oneself. If someone says, "call me my name," and that name is different from what’s on their birth certificate, the only respectful response is to adapt. Immediately.
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Why We Struggle to Remember (and How to Fix It)
We’ve all been the "bad guy" here too. You meet someone at a party, they tell you their name, and three seconds later, it’s gone. It’s vanished into the ether. You feel like a jerk.
Psychologists call this the "Next-in-Line Effect." We’re so busy worrying about what we are going to say next that we don't actually encode the information coming in. We hear the name, but we don't store it. To really honor the "call me my name" ethos, we have to get better at the mechanics of listening.
Here is how you actually do it:
- Repeat it immediately. "Hi, Priya. It's great to meet you, Priya." It sounds repetitive, but it locks the sound into your short-term memory.
- Ask for the spelling. Especially if it’s a name you haven't heard before. Visualizing the letters helps the brain categorize the sound.
- Be honest. If you forgot, just say: "I am so sorry, I’m terrible with names, could you tell me yours again?" People generally prefer a moment of awkwardness over a lifetime of being called the wrong thing.
- Don't make it a joke. Don't say, "Oh, I'll never be able to say that!" It’s insulting. It suggests the person's identity is an obstacle.
The Cultural Weight of a Moniker
In many cultures, names carry the history of ancestors. In many West African traditions, like those of the Akan people in Ghana, children are named based on the day of the week they were born. A boy born on a Friday is Kofi. A girl born on a Saturday is Ama. These aren't just sounds; they are timestamps of existence.
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When an immigrant moves to a country like the US or the UK and is told to "pick an English name" to make things easier for others, a piece of that history is erased. Encouraging people to call me my name—their real name—is a way of resisting that erasure. It’s a way of saying that the world should expand to fit people, rather than forcing people to shrink to fit the world.
Even in the corporate world, things are shifting. We’re seeing more people include phonetic spellings in their LinkedIn profiles or email signatures. (Example: Qing - pronounced 'ching'). This is a great tool. It removes the "fear of failure" for the speaker and empowers the owner of the name. It’s a win-win.
Moving Beyond the "Name Game"
At the end of the day, using someone’s name correctly is the floor, not the ceiling, of human interaction. It’s the bare minimum. If you want to build trust, whether you’re a teacher, a doctor, or a barista, start with the name.
If you’re the one whose name is constantly being skipped or mangled, keep speaking up. It’s not "sensitive" to want to be addressed correctly. It’s not "difficult" to expect people to learn three syllables. It’s your identity.
Actionable Steps for Better Interactions:
- Audit your contact list. Do you have people saved as "John (Gym)" or "Guy with the Dog"? Try to find their actual names. It changes how you think of them.
- Practice the hard ones. If you have a colleague with a complex name, go to YouTube. There are "How to Pronounce" videos for almost every name on Earth. Practice in private so you get it right in public.
- Correct people gently but firmly. If someone calls you the wrong name, say: "Oh, it's actually [Name]. I prefer that." You don't need to apologize for correcting them.
- Slow down. Most name errors happen because we’re rushing. Speed is the enemy of accuracy.
The next time someone says "call me my name," don't just nod. Listen. Repeat it. Get it right. You’ll be surprised how much a small string of letters can change the energy in a room. It turns a stranger into a person. And that’s basically the whole point of being human.