I used to hate my name. Not the name per se, but the way it was used against me, to admonish me, to tell me how I was bad. Inherently bad, Flavia es una hija de puta, he, they, many said. I was then my mother’s daughter. The daughter of. I hated the sound, I hated being named, I hated the way my name was pronounced to imply discipline, to coerce, to subdue.
Today I’m part of the “Let’s talk about names” roundtable, talking about names, State violence and the Nomen Nescio (N.N) of Europe.
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