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.

Let’s Talk About Names: Flavia

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.


For the past decade and a half I have been making all my content available for free (and never behind a paywall) as an ongoing practice of ephemeral publishing. This site is no exception. If you wish to help offset my labor costs, you can donate on Paypal or you can subscribe to Patreon where I will not be putting my posts behind a lock but you'd be helping me continue making this work available for everyone. Thank you.  Follow me on Twitter for new post updates.

Leave a Reply

Scroll to top
Close