My White Parents Gave Me a Black Name

My name is Jevin. It used to be Jevon.

This is a story of how I changed my name.

My parents were having a hard time deciding on baby names. My grandma saw an interesting name inscribed in Bobby McFerrin’s book, Don’t Worry, Be Happy (based on the popular song). It was dedicated to his son, Jevon McFerrin, whose name is pronounced Jeh-von (Jevon McFerrin, by the way, is a total badass actor/comedian and an awesome namesake).

However, when my grandma proposed the name she pronounced it like “Kevin with a J” (Jeh-vin).

This is made even more interesting because Jevon (Jeh-von) is the common spelling and pronunciation for an African American name. My parents, grandma, and I are all white. I wasn’t aware of the racial implications at the time, but thinking back, my name was culturally appropriated. By mispronouncing the name, my family “whitified” the sound, but not the spelling.

My parents went about pronouncing the name the “wrong” way, and when I started going to school everyone pronounced it right, but it was wrong to me.

I corrected people constantly and it drove me nuts. At the time, I remember being frustrated by every teacher reading out my name wrong in school and kids making fun of me (maybe because my first impression was pretentiously correcting the teacher).

I was five years old, and I told my parents I’d had enough.

I wanted to change my name.

They asked me, ”You don’t like your name?”

“No I do,” I said, “but you spelled it wrong.”

When I started school, it felt like everyone else changed my name to Jeh-von without my permission, and they refused to get it right.

One day after church my dad and I were sitting in the parking lot. My Sunday school teacher had just mispronounced my name again. I was pouting and so mad that I was clenching my fists.

“I’m so angry,” I said.

My dad asked me why.

“Because people keep saying my name wrong. Why does everyone say my name wrong?”

“Because Mom and I spelled it with an “o” on your birth certificate,” he said.

I asked him, “How do you spell Uncle Kevin’s name?”

“K-E-V-I-N.”

“From now on, I’m spelling my name J-E-V-I-N,” I declared.

And that was that.

I started writing my name Jevin from then on.

My first-grade teacher encouraged my parents to keep writing my name with an “o” and I’d eventually give in.

My second-grade teacher agreed. She told my parents, “Just keep spelling it with an “o”, he’ll come around.”

By the end of the school year, the second-grade teacher said, “He is NEVER going to spell it with an “o”.

My parents finally gave in, went to the courthouse, and got my name legally changed to Jevin (and saved ten dollars by saying it was a spelling error). I felt like my name was finally correct. It fit me.

My parents had originally given me a mispronounced, culturally appropriated name. When our pronunciation didn’t conform to what people expected, we changed the spelling to fit the way I wanted my name to sound.

I don’t know what the implications of that are, but to me, it seems less misappropriated now.

I’m grateful to have parents that were so understanding of their 5-year old’s wishes.

People still mispronounce my name all the time, but it doesn’t bother me anymore.

It’s mine.

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