1619 Project: The Power of Naming

I wanted names. I wanted people whose narratives I could hold on to. But what struck me most while reading the essays in “The 1619 Project” were the monikers used to galvanize readers. I recognized some names as Black History Month regulars, and started to write down the ones I didn’t recognize. As I started aggregating individual names against titles and identity groupings, I realized the historical records of enslaved Africans in the British colonies consistently leaves so much unanswered.

As purveyors of records, we are tasked with putting history together than can get lost to time. But for many African-Americans the difficulty in concretely naming ancestors goes far beyond frustrating. All of the essays and creative works in “The 1619 Project” have been tasked with “putting history back together” and with placing the contributions of African-Americans into the center of the country’s fight for democracy and citizenship.

For the over 400,000* Africans brought directly to America against their will in the terrifying journies of the transatlantic slave trade and the harrowing existence of chattel slavery, choice and power were systematically and violently stripped from the moment of capture onwards. While they may have held onto their names in their minds and hearts throughout that journey, by the time they reached North American and Caribbean shores, so too were their names stripped— in a cycle that would affect their families for generations to come.

Societies create naming guidelines to help foster affinity as well as individualism. These guides might seem given/ innate, but over time naming conventions can shift, especially as new cultures are introduced. But from slavery to colonialism and imperialism the records show that these “introductions” are often bloody and traumatic.

In West African tribes, then as today, names and naming ceremonies remain a crucial part of structuring social norms. These names can identify your family grouping, your tribe, your religion, your day of birth, your order of birth, whether you are a twin, your family’s aspirations for you, or even your father’s father’s occupation. Amongst the Akan lingual groups, who span modern day Ghana, Ivory Coast, and Togo, you will find similar day names by gender. A Monday born girl might be Adwoa, Adjoa, Adjo, etc. depending on which tribe you were born to and where. In Nigeria, the Igbo often have proverbial lyricism in both long and short names that can serve as guideposts for the bearer: “Ikemefona (let my strength not be lost), Edekobi (do not hang your heart), Ejike (we do not use power in doing things of the world).” Among the Mande people who span across almost all of  West Africa, those of the divined “Ritual Clown” group often have comical or socially marked names from birth, such as: “Sekinkolon (old basket), Nyamakolon (worthless power), Tietemalo or Malobali (without shame)”.**

The “traditions” of naming in African-American cultural history speaks again to a lack of choice and power: stripped of their own cultural, religious, and social names, enslaved Africans were forced into new names that either tied them (a) to a religion which they knew little to nothing of, (b) to something indicating the free service they would provide, (c) to the general region in Africa they came from, or after emancipation (d) to the last name of the individual for whom they had toiled under free labor.

Although steeped in this “tradition” not of their own making, African-American contemporary names have also been a way to take back control, choice, and creativity. Linking to African names across the continent (Ebony, Zendaya) and Muslim names whether converting to Islam or not (Aaliyah, Michael Jamal Warner, Kareem Abdul Jabbar) thus creating new meaning through naming. We don’t have to look much further than the names and stage names of African-American celebrities to admire the wealth of choices in contemporary naming styles. From symbols and apostrophes (The Artist Formerly Known as Prince symbol, Mo’Nique) to acronyms and unique spellings ( CCH Pounder, Quvenzhané Wallis, Jurnee Smollet-Bell). African-American naming traditions are as robust and unconventional as anyone individual’s imagination ( Apple, Soleil Moon, Blue Ivy) and can rival the lyricism of the ancient Greeks (Arsenius, Athanas, Kleopatra, Dareios, Eulalia etc.)

The act of naming continues a tradition of memorializing those who have been martyred, shining light on the need for social justice reform. At the height of the Black Lives Matter movement, printed t-shirts with the names of black people fatally subjected to police and vigilante violence became a sign of defiance and solidarity. Names-on-shirts have also been used to celebrate individuals who have positively contributed to American history but whom often remain marginalized in textbooks.

Divesting enslaved Africans of their names was not a coincidence or unfortunate lack of foresight on the part of colonists. It was intentional. As intentional as when filmmaker Barry Jenkins striked through the last names of Gabriel Prosser and Nat Turner  in his essay for “The 1619 Project”— in which he tells the story of Gabriel’s thwarted rebellion.

Sometimes, when presented with the void of individual African-Americans names some mistakenly argue that the lack of record is proof of a lack of contribution to the founding and success of America. The scholarship on this front is not lacking, but access to it sometimes seems specialized.

The 1619 Project should be woven into a wider curriculum and not just as an elective or extracurricular. The histories presented can help weave and acknowledge more names of black people and shift the standard narratives of American History so that black American history is no longer relegated to a 28-day celebration in February. Now more than ever I think we all need to learn more names. In this way, we create new paths to understanding one another. 

A name is always a starting point in (re)search even though we can exist in this world without one. On every level, names and the act of naming indicate choice. Who is doing the naming? When does the naming occur along one’s lifeline? Why has this name been chosen? What does the name mean? How will this name be used? With choice, comes power.

Below is a list of titles whose writers and thinkers captured the beauty and power of naming and who continue to push the needle forward on the record for learners of all ages.

Young Gifted and Black by Jamia Wilson

"To Name is To Possess" (essay) in My Garden by Jamaica Kinkaid

Barracoon by Zora Neale Hurston

Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood by Trevor Noah

The African Book of Names by Askhari Johnson Hodari

Zami:  A New Spelling of My Name by Audre Lorde

Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi

Friday Black by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah

There Will Be No Miracles Here by Casey Gerald

“You Don’t Make Free People”- an episode of The Nod Podcast republished/reposted on August 5th featuring writer Casey Gerald. Includes a useful guide for discussion topics to start a “podcast club” much like a book club. A candid conversation that utilizes language that is definitely more mature.

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*400,000+enslaved Africans were shipped directly to America,  but over ten million out of roughly twenty-four million survived the middle passage to the Western Hemisphere (so not only North America but also the Caribbean, Latin America and Western Europe).

**www.culturesofwestafrica.com is a wonderful resource for further book lists and articles about the histories and cultures of West Africa.