What’s in a Name?

This month, I rented a desk at a coworking space close to where Ezra, my youngest, goes to day camp.   The space is on the 11th floor of a building near the Silver Spring courthouse and, to gain access, I need to check in at the security desk each morning.  It’s an impersonal arrangement in a rather impersonal space, with a comfortable chair, good wifi, and not much else.

On Monday, when I arrived, the guard called up to the receptionist at co-working office. Quite unfortunately, the guard left her phone on speaker. I could hear the coworking receptionist say from eleven floors above, “Is it a short white lady?” Objectively, her statement was correct – I am short and I am white. No arguments from me. But it also felt cruddy to be objectified – to have my identity whittled down so simplistically. The guard did not meet my gaze when she handed me my pass. I went up to my sterile desk feeling just a little less comfortable.

I returned for my next visit to the co-working office on Thursday.  This time, the guard, even before calling up, greeted me with a warm “Good morning Ms. Deborah.”  Was she making up for the previous awkward interaction?  Had she simply learned my name? I’m not sure, but the difference between “Is it a short white lady?” and “Good morning Ms. Deborah” was immeasurable. And, honestly, I felt the difference throughout the day. 

Judaism emphasizes the importance of one’s name.  “Names represent our identity not simply because they are a convenient way to allow us to be distinguished one from another. It is because they define us,” write Rabbi Benjamin Blech. The Hebrew word for soul is “neshamah.”  Embedded within “neshamah” is the word “shem” or name. When you acknowledge a person’s name, you acknowledge something of their essence – and that you are taking the first step to getting to know them on a deeper level.

Researchers have shown that it takes less than a second to develop a first impression of a person. In many of our daily interactions, we are seen and judged by just the most simplistic and obvious qualities – our height, gender, race, age, weight, our clothes.  But these things don’t define a person, at least not completely. And it feels, well cruddy, to be understood so basically. 

We can’t change how quickly others take to make conclusions about us.  But, we can change how we view others and the time that we take to move beyond the most basic first impression.  Learning a person’s name.  Taking a moment to hear something of their life.  Acknowledging that each person has depth, that nobody is an object.  All of this sounds basic.  But it isn’t.  It’s the difference between being the “short white lady” and “Ms. Deborah.”