Wanna hear the funny: well this morning while at my favorite coffe spot, the sales person takin my order, a bright and bubbly early thirty-something NOT of African descent turns to me and says, "what name should I put on the cup?" and I respond very cooly, Emily. To this my boyfriend/ baby-daddy jokingly says, "c'mon man, really?"this is probaby because that isn't my name AT ALL. 

Here's why I fibbed:  being a child of the eighties, and (eh-hem, African American) I have one of those sorta stereotypical names.  Thank God its not one of those compound names with 30 consonants, one vowel and a useless hyphen (which, is how I chose to spell my daughter's name; lol).   My name is actually biblical. Sure is a man's name, but at-least it's Mediterrean, or Greek? Just so long as it's not the concoction of my mama being from an the inner city; "off fenkell and Wyoming" and my father not being in my life (a common stereo-type associated with any Keisha, Quiana or Tasha.  Consquently; I, like many other young African American women, even Sasha and Malia, have what I call: Black girl aliases. 

Its just so much easier when ordering take out or a simple cup of coffee at Starbucks to give an Emily or Kelli... and its not at all odd when I hand over my credit or debit card with my real name on the front. Cashiers and customer service agents rarely ever pay attention to the names given at their first request anyway.  My sister and I even go so far as to give our aliases fake phone numbers and bios just in-case we run into the ever persistant guy who just won't take no for an answer.  Its way less troublesome when trying to get away from an overbearing dude breathing down your neck with his cell phone already whipped out and open to the "New Contacts" page. And I'm sure this isn't so much because the guy (in this example) is being presumptious but more like he's daring you to turn him down--- and no one wants to be victim of an aggregrious, "YOU ain't ALL that" tiff in the middle of a mall, public place or family gathering (i've seen this happen before).

Also, I cannot tell you the anxiety that overcomes me when giving my name to an older black woman---let alone when being introduced to the family of the new guy that I am dating.  Older men are usually no problem at all-- of any ethnicity, they could care less. But for some reason; my name, coupled with the colorism light-skinned thing is a recipe for raised eybrows and half-turned lips.  Its also preceeds a precession of rolled eyes and deep throated, "GUUUERRRRRRLLLLEEE, what did she say her name was again?"  which is usually followed by a some sort of neck twist and eye-roll response, "chile I don't know: hell, just call her keisha, kee-kee or kee, she'll correct you if your wrong".  I often find myself being overly nice or shy to avoid any one that is even 1/2 a skin pigment darker than I am from labeling me a "STUCK UP LIGHT-SKINNED GIRL".  Which  is the absolute worse things to happen, and its EXTREMELY hard to overcome or climb your back into people's good graces once this happens.  However, once all of the cheap shots, colloquial traps and coversational pitfalls (in the form of light hearted insults, such as where did you get your color from, who's white in your family or why is your hair like that?) are handled with  grace and humilty..(because the cornerstone of an uppity lighskinned person is a strong belief in the lighter is better ideology)--then its safe to be yourself. 

While it may seem that I am ashamed (gasp!) at the name my parents hold so dear.  You should hear the pretentious tone of voice my mother and my father use when telling people my name. They are actually delighted when people can't understand it or have a hard time trying to pronounce it.  Keep in mind my parents are very proud, accomplished people.  I suppose that around the time I was born names with an added flair or psuedo-African derivative was the in-thing.  Yet, when I can and depending on who's asking, I simply reply, "Emily".