Michael Eric Dyson

by Is Bill Cosby Right?: Or Has the Black Middle Class Lost Its Mind?

  Many slaves also kept their ancestral roots alive by giving themselves African nicknames used in their own company, creating a familiar feeling in a strange land. By the mid-eighteenth century, more than one-fifth of slaves on big estates in the lowcountry had African names, proving they had ingeniously battled the usurpation of their identities by white owners. 38 By the second and third generations of enslavement, when blacks gave their children African names, it reflected the effort to stimulate the memory of their African ancestry in their children and grandchildren.39 Even with the rise of European names in slave communities, slave parents insisted on maintaining African naming practices, like naming their children after important days, events and places.40 Thus, if a child was named Christmas, he had a European name backed by an African tradition of recognizing an important day.

  When Africans insisted on fitting their children with names from their distant homeland, slaves in the South often chose events relating to birth, such as the day the child was born: Quash, Squash, or Quashy for Sunday, for example; Cudjo for Monday; and Cuffy for Friday. Sometimes those names were linguistically deformed in crude substitutions, like Coffee for Cuffie, or by translations into English, so that African children bore the names Monday, Wednesday and Friday.41 African children were also named after months, with names like April, June and August; times of day, with names like Morning; and seasons or festivals of the year, yielding names like Winter and Easter. There were African names derived from tribal names, such as Hibou from Ibo, Becky from Beke and Fantee from Fanti. African children also bore Anglicized African names: Andoni became Anthony, Nsa became Henshaw, and Effiom became Ephraim.42 Sometimes, white owners degraded African names and lent them pejorative meanings. For instance, the Hausa name Sambo, usually given to the second son of the tribe’s family, was twisted in South Carolina to signify a lazy, stupid black male, a negative meaning that survives to this day. Quaco, the day name for men born on Wednesday, was derisively transliterated as Quack.43

  The African naming tradition in the New World was often extravagant, similar to traditions in the African cultures blacks left behind. Besides secret nicknames, there were secondary names assigned to blacks to distinguish them from others with the same names on large plantations; names for occupations, such as Engineer Ned, Carpenter John and Headman Frank; names for age and appearance, such as Old Daniel, Great Jenny or Little Mag (later, placing “Big” before a name reflected the southern practice of giving the title to the oldest member of the family with a common name, usually a father whose son was named after him); names showing relationships, such as Katina’s York, Jenny’s Dolly or Henry’s Tom; and finally names that through sheer exuberance and creativity were made up and later generally adopted, names like Pie-Ya, Frog, Monkey, Cooter, John de Baptist, Fat-man, Fly-Up-de-Creek and Cat-Fish.44 Africans engaged in what may be termed resistive nomenclature: Siblings and parents named their children to combat the broken family ties when kin were sold. Brothers and sisters named their children after each other and sons and daughters were named after their fathers and mothers, though father and son pairings were more usual.45

  After slavery, black folk took on names that signified their newfound freedom. Their overwhelming choice of Anglo-American names over African names reflected their profound acculturation as well as their emancipation.46 Freed blacks also chose Anglo-American names to purge their ranks of derisive classical names and of names usually given to mules or dogs—the logic seems to have been that if Anglo-American names were good enough for white folk then they were good enough for black folk seeking to occupy a free society. Blacks also moved from the informal and diminutive, Jim and Betty, to the full and formal, James and Elizabeth.47 And, for the first time for most blacks, they shed the stigmatizing use of single forenames and selected surnames to match their newly emancipated status. Many of those surnames embodied their liberation, including Freeman, Newman, Freeland and Liberty. Blacks drew other surnames from their trades and skills, an ancient custom, while some blacks chose to be identified with their color, hence the popularity of Brown.

  But the bulk of ex-slaves chose Anglo-American surnames, underscoring their deep Americanization. The same can be said for those free blacks in the Upper South who took the surnames of their former masters—sometimes out of “gratitude and respect,” as one ex-slave put it, but also because, as he admitted, identifying with an established family would help him in his efforts as a tradesman.48 Many other ex-slaves followed suit. In the first flush of freedom, black surnames were drawn not only from Anglo-American culture and from former owners, but from notable personages associated with independence and freedom, like Washington, Jefferson, Jackson, Grant and Hamilton, and from biblical names like Isaiah, Moses, Joshua and Ezekiel. Other free blacks adopted certain surnames because of their emotional or cultural appeal, or because they “simply liked the way they sounded, or found them unique.”49

  Unusual or unique names—those names “given to no other child born in that year who is of the same sex and race”—have consistently, if not overwhelmingly, appeared in African American culture.50 Among black college students in 1938, 15.3 percent of black females and 8.4 percent of black males had unusual names. The proportion of unusual names for these students varied according to the region of the country they lived in: In Ohio, it was 9.9 percent; in the Upper South, it was 10.4 percent; in the Lower South, it was 13.9 percent; and in Oklahoma and Texas, it was 16.3 percent, numbers that paralleled those for whites with unusual names.51 Some blacks, however, did give their children “highly fantastic” names. In Rockingham County, North Carolina, in 1930, blacks had names like Agenora, Audrivalus, Earvila, Eldeese, Katel, Limmer, Margorilla, Roanza and Venton Orlaydo.52

  Some unusual black names were “African survivals,” while other names, especially those given by Gullahs on the South Carolina and Georgia coastlines, followed African patterns of naming children after circumstances of birth, the mood of the parents, or with the intent of bringing their children good fortune.53 Gullah children had names like Blossom, Wind, Hail, Storm, Freeze, Morning and Cotton, all reflecting birth circumstances—for instance, Blossom might have been born when flowers were blooming and Cotton was born during cotton-picking time.54 Black children had names like Pleasant Times and Hard Times, reflecting their parents’ mood at the time of their birth. Religious belief and the desire to bless their children led to names like Fortune, Redemption, Refuge and Precious Allgood; sacred and secular phrases resulted in names such as I Will Arise, Try and See, and Daisy Bell Rise Up.55 Some Gullah children were named after West African nicknames and after totems or clan names such as Frog, Bear, Cat-Fish and Squirrel.

  For the most part, however, unusual black names were African only in the sense that they reflected flair and creativity, not because they had direct links to African culture.56 Those African traits showed through when black folk named their children after brands and consumer products, such as Hershey Bar, Listerine and Creamola. Unusual black names became more prominent in the first half of the twentieth century, but were curtailed in the 1950s, perhaps because of the rise of the modern civil rights movement and the focus in certain quarters on assimilation to white life.57 The adoption of African names became popular with the dissatisfaction, after the height of the civil rights struggle, with persistent inequality. The trend was aided as well by the rise of black power ideology and black nationalist sentiment in the late sixties and early seventies, with its strong emphasis on black pride, a distinctive black culture and identification with Africa.58 Prominent black figures, as well as thousands of other blacks, adopted African names: SNCC leader and black freedom fighter Stokely Carmichael became Kwame Toure; writer and activist Leroi Jones became Amiri Baraka; and activist and Kwanzaa founder Ron Karenga took on the first name Maulana. There followed a slew of infant females named Aina, Jamilah, Khadija and Shani, and a host of boys named Hasani, Hakeem, Jabari, Kofi, Quaashie and Sulaiman. The volume Names from Africa, put out in 1972 by Johnson Pu
blishing Company, publisher of Ebony and Jet magazines, became one of its best-selling books.59 These developments may even account in part for the resurgence of unusual black names since the 1980s.

  In the last twenty years, a number of black parents have continued to give their children unique names. In a study of unique African American names in Illinois conducted by Harvard sociologist Stanley Lieberson and then-graduate student Kelly S. Mikelson, for example, 29 percent of black girls and 16 percent of black boys had unique names in 1989.60 At times, the uniqueness of their names had to do with the unusual spelling variation of a common name; a “standard” name that was no longer popular; or, in the majority of cases, because their names were invented or adapted from existing words, usually nouns, that were not usually used as first names, such as geographical names, surnames, or commercial products.61 In Illinois, there was a huge jump in the early sixties in unique names for black girls, and while the percentages were lower for black boys, they followed the same pattern. Among white children during the comparable period, there weren’t nearly as many unique names given.62

  While unique black names seem to radically depart from “standard” (African) American names, it seems that these names fulfill the same function provided by first names in at least sixty societies: the indication of the name-holder’s sex.63 In the Illinois study, 224 subjects (122 of them were white, 61 were black and 41 were either “other” or indicated no race) were presented with a list of sixteen unique black names. There was a high degree of consensus about which names were male and which were female, and the majority guesses were usually correct.64 Since both blacks and whites had an equal ability to guess the gender of the names, it was clear to Lieberson and Mikelson that there “is a widely shared cultural agreement regarding the sounds associated with names for girls and boys.”65 Furthermore, there appear to be linguistic features that influence black parents’ selections of invented names. For example, there is the gender cue that a endings, such as Lamecca, Timitra, Maleka and Sukoya, are usually female.66 (Joshua is the only male name among blacks’ and whites’ top one hundred names that ends with an a.) Next, similarity to an Arabic male name—in concert with the fact that a large degree of black, and white, male names end in consonants—usually indicates a unique male name like Husan.67

  Then there is the gender cue provided by the Sh (Ch often has the Sh sound, as in Charlene) that starts many black female names. (In fact, there are four leading names for black females that begin with Sh: Sharon, Shamika, Sheri and Sheena, and three that begin with Ch: Chantel, Charlene and Chanel.)68 Even among black unique names, the Sh sound (even when it is made by Ch) holds true as a likely index of female gender. (This is only likely, since there are black males with the Sh sound at the beginning of their names, for instance, actor Shemar Moore.) Also, for boys with unique black names, it is slightly more likely their names will end in i or ie than for girls. And it is also much more likely that names ending in a hard d, such as Olukayod, are male rather than female. All in all, black parents who give their children invented, unique names appear to be guided by the rules that they be gender specific and that certain sounds are appropriate for either gender.69 There appears to be culture in phonemes.

  Of course, prejudice against unique names may not stop when folk learn that there are rules that shape their invention, or that naming in general has a long and complicated history in black America. Many blacks, especially those who are middle class or wealthier, feel just as Cosby does. Journalist Cathy Jackson is upset when black parents give their children distinctive names because, unlike in the case of Africans, or of Muslim groups, these names don’t make any sense. “What is the meaning of Zohnitha, Equilla, Lakeisha, Neumoonisha, La Domona, De Andrean or Zanquisha?” Jackson asks.70 Of course most folk, including blacks who give their children conventional names, may not pass that litmus test of naming: I’m not sure my mother knew the meaning of Michael when she gave me that name. For that matter, I’m not sure she realized that Eric, my middle name, was invented centuries ago by folk who believed the world was flat, though the meaning of that name has since changed.71 Jackson argues that these names “surely aren’t inherited from our African-American ancestors.” But, as we learned above, the patterns are the same as those adopted by earlier generations of black folk, Africans and African Americans alike, who were creative in their selections, adaptations and inventions.

  Jackson is on to more serious territory when she warns of studies that show behavior problems “occur much more frequently among people who have peculiar names,” and that another study found that “criminal misdeeds are four times as frequent among those with unusual names.”72 For a moment it appears as if Cosby’s disgust with unique black names may be justified, especially his aside that those with such names “are all in jail.” But then, when we recall that some of the worst crimes in history have been committed by folk with perfectly normal names like Charles Manson or Ted Bundy, there’s a bit of relief. Moreover, many of the white supremacists who committed untold atrocities against black folk in the South had regular names like Sam and Billy, and segregationist politicians who justified those heinous acts as occupants of the highest office in states like Alabama and Georgia had old-fashioned names like George Wallace and Lester Maddox. To be sure, Pookie might steal your car, which is bad enough, but he isn’t likely to participate in acts of racial genocide.

  In fact, there might be a more reasonable causal explanation to correlate blacks with unique names and behavioral problems and criminal activity: They usually come from at-risk families and neighborhoods. As Jackson says, “it is mostly poor, very young Black mothers who give their children fanciful names,” though she admits she knows upwardly mobile black people have also “saddled their offspring with names that have lots of rhythm but no reason.”73 But then, as we learned above, there are plenty of reasons for how and why black folk choose the names they do, and there are rules that govern even totally made up names. If it is true that mostly working-class and poor black folk give their children unique names, then it is likely that if they gave their children conventional “white” names—say, Richard or Alan or William—it wouldn’t make much difference at all in their economic standing.

  Even though Jackson claims that she is concerned about the social costs a “burdensome title” imposes on black kids—ridicule at school, names their grandparents can’t pronounce, psychological harm—the ultimate explanation for her response to black names may be the same sort of embarrassment before white folk that chagrined earlier generations of the black middle class and elites, and that seems to plague Cosby as well. Trying to explain to one’s white colleagues or peers or fellow citizens the raison d’être of some black names brings winces of shame to many black faces. Fortunately, when some black folk find humor or even shock in unique black names—after all, naming one’s children Versace, Formica, Moet, Lexus and Toyota, as some black parents have done, may seem a frightening new invention, but, as we discovered earlier, black folk for a long time have turned to famous brands and consumer products for names—they have neither guilt nor embarrassment about the choices poorer and younger black folk make. Instead, they have awareness that a persistently racist society imposes social and racial tariffs on poor blacks, and psychological ones on the more well-to-do blacks among us.74

  There should be little surprise, then, with the findings of a 2003 study conducted by economists Marianne Bertrand and Sendhil Mullainathan that concluded that employers often discriminate against black job applicants by screening resumes based on applicants’ potential race as suggested by their names.75 The pair crafted resumes with white-sounding and black-sounding names and sent nearly 5,000 of them to 1,300 jobs that were advertised in Chicago and Boston newspapers. Those “applicants” with white-sounding names such as Jay, Brad, Carrie, Kristen, Laurie and Sarah were 50 percent more likely to receive a callback than those with black-sounding names like Ebony, Latonya, Kenya, Latoya, Rasheed and Kareem.

  When
Bertrand and Mullainathan were designing their study, colleagues predicted that there would indeed be a discrimination effect revealed, but one that pointed to “reverse discrimination,” under the assumption, it seems, that affirmative action policies would benefit the resumes of apparently black applicants.76 But the reverse proved to be true; the racial disparity in callbacks substantiates the existence of persistent discrimination in the workplace. This discrimination affected blacks seeking employment in a wide range of positions as executives and managers, administrative supervisors, sales representatives, sales workers in retail finance and insurance and personal services, clerical workers, administrative support, manufacturing, transportation and communications, wholesale and retail trade, insurance and real estate finance, business and personal services, and health, educational and social services.77

  Predictably, some economists have tried to reverse the logic of Bertrand and Mullainathan’s study and place the onus on the blacks who are the victims of discrimination. In citing a study, “The Causes and Consequences of Distinctively Black Names,” by economists Roland G. Fryer, Jr., and Steven D. Levitt, economics professor Robert J. Barro argues that the economists prove that “the more black-sounding a person’s name, the more likely the parents have a lower socioeconomic status.”78 Thus, employers “might infer that a job seeker with a black-sounding name is more likely to have grown up in a less educated and poorer family,” and if these employers “believe, rightly or wrongly, that such a background lowers the chance of job success, this may help explain why audit studies find that employers react negatively to black-sounding names on resumes.”79 For Barro, the study proves that “a person’s name no longer predicts much about later economic outcomes, such as whether he or she winds up living in a rich or poor area,” and that “ultimately it matters whether your parents are well-educated or rich but not whether they name you Shanice or Molly.”