A lot of you I’ve introduced myself as Chana but today you will know me formally, as Chanaly.
You see Chana was so easily digestible,
She was nice and to the point
Different but acceptable
Not for my lips or yours to pronounce
But to read off a dock, is admissible.
A couple of hiccups here and there but nonetheless, a spectacle.
The awkwardness of a hand raised to correct, but forgettable.
But Chanaly brought that fire, that sound of culture to the table.
That rice and beans.
The type of sound you hear when you eat meat, my mom said perfect.
That sound was me.
It was read like a poem
The way the mouth parts to emphasize the vowels
And create the flow of
A name from my parent’s name
Who celebrated their unison by having me
Now it’s a reminder of once was
What I’ve hidden in insecurity
I now stand tall in awe of my uniqueness
In that, I am one and nothing
I am not a shortcut or a silent nod
As a man tries an accent he’s never done it before.
I am not Chanel or an SH,
Or whatever name you switch out for
To make yourself feel comfortable
While I shrug off the embarrassment
Because you went off on a whim
Instead of asking
Because your assumption log
Gave away your mindset
That I’m not important enough iyf
To be mentioned
Like the thousand of names before me
That was too hard to pronounce
So you gave them a John or a Smith
And left them with no ounce
Of identity and pride,
To make it easy for your mouth
Well I’m not easy or shy
So you will say my name right.