“Expansion of Blackness, Professional Globalism, and the Power of a Name”

In recent months, I have stood on several Black stages where my name Yoruba business name (Kemi Abifarin) was mispronounced. In one instance, the presenter attempted to skip my name entirely rather than pause to say it correctly or ask for clarity.

What followed was just as telling as the moment itself.

There was no conversation afterward. No follow-up. No inquiry about how to correct it for the future.

The program—and the days that followed—simply continued.

That silence was not neutral. It was deeply instructional.

The Power of a Name

During my 20-year career across multiple levels of education, I have facilitated unconscious bias workshops, One of the most impactful conversations I consistently led centered on the power of names within cultural context.

A name is not simply a sound. It is an identity spoken into existence. It is a calling placed into the universe. Across many cultures—particularly within African and diasporic traditions—names are intentional. They carry lineage, purpose, spiritual alignment, and blessing. To speak someone’s name correctly is to acknowledge their full presence.

In those workshops, I urged educators to learn how to pronounce students’ names correctly and to avoid assigning nicknames out of convenience. When adults rename children without consent, we teach them early that their identity is negotiable—and that the comfort of others matters more than their truth.

The classroom, however, is not the only place where this lesson applies.

Professional Globalism

Expanding Blackness in global spaces requires more than access. It requires accuracy. Care. In professional spaces, when someone does not ask how to pronounce a name and instead says it however it comes out of their mouth, it communicates several things:

• Convenience was chosen over respect.

• Curiosity was replaced with assumption.

• Comfort was prioritized over the work required to challenge the dominant narratives within our own communities.

• A potentially meaningful connection was not considered worthy of a pause.

  
  
  
  

Asking how to pronounce someone’s name is not a performance of inclusion—it is a practice of professionalism. It signals attentiveness, humility, and relational awareness. It says: I see you. I value accuracy. I care enough to get this right. I made time to honor the power and sacredness of this moment.

Repeated mispronunciation—or avoidance altogether—communicates the opposite. It reinforces hierarchy, centers dominant comfort, and quietly erodes trust.

Let me be clear: I am genuinely grateful for and honored by the spaces in which I have been included and recognized. I hold no ill will toward the presenters. I know who I am and the story I carry. I walk with that purpose daily.

Additionally, my goal is not to change my name to make others comfortable. My goal is to teach people how to say it.

Because learning my name is learning how to honor my family.

Learning my name is learning how to honor my ancestors.

Learning my name is learning how to honor my brand, my work, and my legacy.

Names as Cultural and Professional Currency

In education, business, and leadership, names are often the first exchange of power. How we handle them reveals our values.

As we move into a more global world, truly inclusive and expansive systems require more than surface-level gestures. They demand disciplined practices of respect. That begins with listening. It begins with asking. It begins with saying someone’s name correctly—every time.

A name is not an obstacle. It is an offering.

And when we take the time to receive it properly, we participate in something larger than pronunciation. We participate in respect, alignment, and truth.

That is the work.

That is the lesson.

And that is the legacy  we need to carry forward—by name.

Dr. LaShaunda Cradock

Kemi Abifarin LLC.

Yoruba for -One is cherished/adored/taken care of and walks with the culture of Ifa.

www.kemiabifarin.me