
…may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.
we used to recite that verse when we were children, especially after someone else called us names. not because we believed it; in fact, we did, and still do believe that names can hurt us. but because we tried to convince ourselves and our oppressors that names couldn’t hurt us.
for trans people, certain names take on significant hurt. specifically our old names. many of us won’t mention them, and even when we see it, it hurts.
i come across my old name on occasion, on mail, on documents, in old photographs, when someone slips. and once in a while, when we have to deal with society, like government agencies or during job applications. when i applied for my current job, the application instructed me to list any former names. so i did. and just this past week, when i applied for an arizona ccw permit. so even now, 9 years after i legally changed it, it still rears its ugly head.
it doesn’t bother me as much as it used to. although i never liked my old name. even as a child, i thought to change it when i “grew up”. little did i know that it would follow me around for the rest of my life. but i guess that’s something that every person, trans or otherwise, has to deal with.











