Nicknames, we all grew up with one…some were good others…not so good. For example, in 6th grade I was called Ethiopian, it wasn’t because I was black or came from Africa. It was because I was always hungry. You see I grew up in a home of an alcholic and drug addict. There wasn’t much food in our fridge so I got most of my meals in school. The kids made fun of me.
Later in 12th grade I got a whole new name. As a new mother I was called “Easy Tammy.” All the boys thought because I had a kid it was easy to get into my pants. That was by far the farthest thing from the truth. I hated boys because I did get pregnant and was left to fend for me and my daughter. I sure and hell didn’t want to associate with another boy and get pregnant again. In fact I took it to the extreme and didn’t even date for another 3 years. The good side I put all that anger into to school and graduated in the top 10% of my class and went on to college.
The man I met when I decided to dated again seemed like prince charming. He was a wolf in sheep clothing. He turned out to be abusive, mentally, physically and sexually. He abused both me and my daughter, and later his own daughter. We all had the same nickname, “whore or little whore.” Who calls a 5 year old or and baby that? (Yes he went to prison for his actions!)
I have never had a good nickname. I know that one doesn’t represent who a person is. Someone called “Snow,” drugs “princess”, well unless it’s a child, a primadonna, “star”, attention getter. I say this because in my housing unit I have those nicknames floating around. They are exactly as I described. They refuse to answer to their given names and seem to be proud of those nicknames.
God gave us each a name. That is the name we should be proud of. Not the name we used to sell drugs or our body or to gain attention. All I can say is be proud of who you are and what your name is, God is.
— Tammy H.