Name Change!
Concerning the Name Change (FAQ)
by Xander Keurvorst on Monday, 29 October 2012 at 05:17 ·
Q: Why?
A: If you've met me in the last decade, you should know that the name "Alex" has caused me to convulse and clam up. This is because, all my life, I've never considered it an honest representation of who I am. This increased exponentially in my teens, to the point of visceral discomfort when I hear the word. The name is not me, surely as Darth Awesomesauce isn't you (although one can always dream...)
Despite my, uhm, vociferous nature, I tend to get shy when it comes to dictating the behavior of others. And so throughout my teens I grinned and bore the name, and I clumsily tried to implement alternatives when I thought it was appropriate -- this resulted in a metric tonne of nicknames, some of which caught on more than others. It wasn't until a few years ago that my "polite suggestions" started catching on outside of a few improv troupes. I'm very grateful for that emergence in my life, and I can largely attribute it to Tara, my friends in the BFA Acting Program, and some close online friends (specifically GA and TLS).
But I am a social person and find myself meeting people, wonderful people, who have had to endure the same awkward speech that I give everyone. I always feel terribly selfish and demanding when I have that conversation -- it brings me down as much as it makes the person on the receiving end feel like they did something wrong just for getting up in the morning. It's bad. It ruins my day sometimes. I have this conversation, without a hint of exaggeration, hundreds of times a year. More often than not with industry professionals, acting colleagues, bosses, girlfriend's relatives, and other people with whom I would rather make a different kind of first impression. I have it often with burgeoning friendships, which I worry nips them in the bud. The rest of the time, I have it with the same people over and over. I've had this conversation (no joke) 37 times so far in October. I remember every occasion like black marks on my days. It's taxing. I'm tired and depressed. I need to combat this in a permanent way, to improve my general quality of life.
And so I am officially changing my name to Xander. On Facebook. On resumes. On my driver's license (if I ever get one). Thank you for bearing with me through this (very, very long) period of adjustment. It is incredibly difficult for me to take the reigns on this, as I have felt helpless within my name for almost twenty-six years, and it's been a trigger-word for me for over ten, which only hurts my ability to properly combat it.
I'll be answering some frequently asked questions that I typically get when I have this conversation:
Q: Xander doesn't suit you.
A: I desperately wanted to say "That's your opinion" and move on, but you deserve an answer that is less glib. It can be difficult to adjust when someone goes through a period of identity transition, and a little uncomfortable for the people they love. I've built up a lot of the courage I needed for this from my friends in the transgender community, and there are plenty of resources for you there if you feel that you have a hard time adjusting to someone 'coming out' in regards to a shift in their outward presentation of their true personal selves. If the parallel isn't clear to you, hopefully it will illustrate that this is a bigger deal to me than it is to you. If Xander still rubs you the wrong way, There are also other options, as addressed in the next two questions.
Q: Don't you like the full name Alexander?
A: You are quite right! I love my name, my full name, I am proud of it and think it suits me fine. Unfortunately for me, presenting strangers with my full name seems to give them the go-ahead to get "familiar" with me which wouldn't seem as insultingly presumptuous if being "familiar" didn't equate to calling me by not-my-name. If people are that desperate to familiarize themselves with me, they can do so in other ways than abusing my name. For those who cannot utter more than two syllables without exploding, I am removing the option for them to pick the wrong two syllables. Using the first half of my name is -- as of now -- a privilege, not a right, and it's earned through learning that the second half is just-as if not more important than the first.
Q: What About "Al" or "Al Gender"?
A: I still consider that a nickname. Not my preferred one, but there is a history to that name that I am fond of, and I know many friends who have made an effort to use it as an alternative already and I wouldn't want to jerk them around more than once.
Q: Wait. Is this like step-one of telling people you're trans?
A: No. I will remain happily male, probably until I die.
Q: But we went to high school and/or I'm related to you, don't I get special privilege?
A: I'm sorry, but when I hear this argument, I am not moved to sympathy for your awful inconvenience. Instead I see it as: you got used to something and don't want to make the effort to change. If you respect me as a friend and a relative, I hope you will rethink your stance. If you continue to disrespect me I don't see why I should be friends with you anymore. This is nothing personal, and I am not trying to inconvenience you. I have in fact put myself through years of discomfort for the general ease of the people around me, and I've learned recently that something important as one's identity should be respected by others, as a basic tenet of human rights. I am sorry that my inaction caused this misunderstanding, and I'm hoping that by taking action now we can have a better time in the future.
Q: What if I slip up?
A: If you don't correct yourself, I will. Sorry in advance for that. In these instances, it might halt conversation, it might interrupt flow, it might even kill the mood. But I assure you that whenever it happens, I immediately check-out of whatever conversation we were about to have. If you don't mind me throwing in an "--Ander" here and there, I won't mind the occasional slip-up.
Q: How do I pronounce your last name?
A: CURVE-orst. It's Dutch. And trochaic!
Thank you for your patience with my as I sort my (for lack of a better word) shit out. Identity is an incredibly delicate thing, and a really terrifying thing to stand up for. So thanks. Love you all.
by Xander Keurvorst on Monday, 29 October 2012 at 05:17 ·
Q: Why?
A: If you've met me in the last decade, you should know that the name "Alex" has caused me to convulse and clam up. This is because, all my life, I've never considered it an honest representation of who I am. This increased exponentially in my teens, to the point of visceral discomfort when I hear the word. The name is not me, surely as Darth Awesomesauce isn't you (although one can always dream...)
Despite my, uhm, vociferous nature, I tend to get shy when it comes to dictating the behavior of others. And so throughout my teens I grinned and bore the name, and I clumsily tried to implement alternatives when I thought it was appropriate -- this resulted in a metric tonne of nicknames, some of which caught on more than others. It wasn't until a few years ago that my "polite suggestions" started catching on outside of a few improv troupes. I'm very grateful for that emergence in my life, and I can largely attribute it to Tara, my friends in the BFA Acting Program, and some close online friends (specifically GA and TLS).
But I am a social person and find myself meeting people, wonderful people, who have had to endure the same awkward speech that I give everyone. I always feel terribly selfish and demanding when I have that conversation -- it brings me down as much as it makes the person on the receiving end feel like they did something wrong just for getting up in the morning. It's bad. It ruins my day sometimes. I have this conversation, without a hint of exaggeration, hundreds of times a year. More often than not with industry professionals, acting colleagues, bosses, girlfriend's relatives, and other people with whom I would rather make a different kind of first impression. I have it often with burgeoning friendships, which I worry nips them in the bud. The rest of the time, I have it with the same people over and over. I've had this conversation (no joke) 37 times so far in October. I remember every occasion like black marks on my days. It's taxing. I'm tired and depressed. I need to combat this in a permanent way, to improve my general quality of life.
And so I am officially changing my name to Xander. On Facebook. On resumes. On my driver's license (if I ever get one). Thank you for bearing with me through this (very, very long) period of adjustment. It is incredibly difficult for me to take the reigns on this, as I have felt helpless within my name for almost twenty-six years, and it's been a trigger-word for me for over ten, which only hurts my ability to properly combat it.
I'll be answering some frequently asked questions that I typically get when I have this conversation:
Q: Xander doesn't suit you.
A: I desperately wanted to say "That's your opinion" and move on, but you deserve an answer that is less glib. It can be difficult to adjust when someone goes through a period of identity transition, and a little uncomfortable for the people they love. I've built up a lot of the courage I needed for this from my friends in the transgender community, and there are plenty of resources for you there if you feel that you have a hard time adjusting to someone 'coming out' in regards to a shift in their outward presentation of their true personal selves. If the parallel isn't clear to you, hopefully it will illustrate that this is a bigger deal to me than it is to you. If Xander still rubs you the wrong way, There are also other options, as addressed in the next two questions.
Q: Don't you like the full name Alexander?
A: You are quite right! I love my name, my full name, I am proud of it and think it suits me fine. Unfortunately for me, presenting strangers with my full name seems to give them the go-ahead to get "familiar" with me which wouldn't seem as insultingly presumptuous if being "familiar" didn't equate to calling me by not-my-name. If people are that desperate to familiarize themselves with me, they can do so in other ways than abusing my name. For those who cannot utter more than two syllables without exploding, I am removing the option for them to pick the wrong two syllables. Using the first half of my name is -- as of now -- a privilege, not a right, and it's earned through learning that the second half is just-as if not more important than the first.
Q: What About "Al" or "Al Gender"?
A: I still consider that a nickname. Not my preferred one, but there is a history to that name that I am fond of, and I know many friends who have made an effort to use it as an alternative already and I wouldn't want to jerk them around more than once.
Q: Wait. Is this like step-one of telling people you're trans?
A: No. I will remain happily male, probably until I die.
Q: But we went to high school and/or I'm related to you, don't I get special privilege?
A: I'm sorry, but when I hear this argument, I am not moved to sympathy for your awful inconvenience. Instead I see it as: you got used to something and don't want to make the effort to change. If you respect me as a friend and a relative, I hope you will rethink your stance. If you continue to disrespect me I don't see why I should be friends with you anymore. This is nothing personal, and I am not trying to inconvenience you. I have in fact put myself through years of discomfort for the general ease of the people around me, and I've learned recently that something important as one's identity should be respected by others, as a basic tenet of human rights. I am sorry that my inaction caused this misunderstanding, and I'm hoping that by taking action now we can have a better time in the future.
Q: What if I slip up?
A: If you don't correct yourself, I will. Sorry in advance for that. In these instances, it might halt conversation, it might interrupt flow, it might even kill the mood. But I assure you that whenever it happens, I immediately check-out of whatever conversation we were about to have. If you don't mind me throwing in an "--Ander" here and there, I won't mind the occasional slip-up.
Q: How do I pronounce your last name?
A: CURVE-orst. It's Dutch. And trochaic!
Thank you for your patience with my as I sort my (for lack of a better word) shit out. Identity is an incredibly delicate thing, and a really terrifying thing to stand up for. So thanks. Love you all.