Don't Call Me Jim
What’s in a name? According to my father, anger, if that name reminds you of someone you hate.
A couple of days ago I made a Facebook post about having written a science-based motivational book for a genre that prefers fluff, nonsense, and pseudoscience. In referencing the type of self-help books that are most popular I paid homage to an old In Living Color skit about Homey the Clown by writing “Jamie don’t play that.” A couple of people expressed surprise that I would refer to myself as Jamie, but it was my name until I was 12 or 13.
And I like the name Jamie. When I see one of my cousins, they’ll call me Jamie and it brings back fond memories of being a sweet little boy who loved his mother and she called him Jamie and then toxic fucking masculinity ruined that.
You can call me Jamie if you want. Or James. Or Jay. Or hey you fuckface. But please don’t call me Jim.
My maternal grandfather died a year before I was born. I’ve written about what an egregiously awful and abusive woman his wife was, and have privately joked that he died to get away from my grandmother. His name was James, and my mother wanted me to have his name to honor a man she loved.
But my mom’s brother is named Jim. My father and my Uncle Jim do not get along. “Okay,” my dad said to the name, “But no one ever calls him Jim.”
And so no one ever did.
I only remember one time, when I was quite young, my father explaining that my name was James or Jamie, but never Jim. And I was all okay sure Dad. I don’t recall it being a big thing, but it was a thing. Jim was not my name and that was that. On occasion an older man would sometimes call me Jim and I’d say, “my name is James” and they’d say oh okay sorry.
I don’t answer to it. I don’t hear it or see it written and think oh hey that’s also me.
I get called Jay a lot, mostly by my mom, my sister, my stepdad, and my wife. I think it’s just convenient as a “Jay!” to get my attention from across a room. My biological father never uses Jay though. To my bio dad I was Jamie when I was young, and then James once I became a teen. I’ll get to that in a moment.
The Jay thing I consider my name when I hear it, but not when it’s written. It doesn’t look like my name because I never wrote it down. As a child I wrote my name as Jamie Fell and then later as James Fell. But never once as Jay Fell. Ew. It looks weird. Stop it.
Why the switch from Jamie? The Bionic Woman had something to do with it.
The main character, played by Lindsay Wagner, was named Jaime Sommers. I just googled to find out how Sommers was spelled and was all holy shit they use the Spanish spelling for James. I never knew that. As you might know, my master’s was focused on Latin American history and I spent a lot of time there, and everyone called me Jaime, which is pronounced “high may”. I like it. I’ll answer to the Spanish pronounced Jaime before I answer to Jim.
So . . . Jaime Sommers, which back in the 70s I thought was spelled Jamie Summers, made life rough for me. I was not a popular boy, but the show was popular and so other boys started saying I had a girl’s name because boys are often douchebags. And it made me start to hate my own name, so when I began Jr. High and was in a new group, I started telling everyone my name was James and most of them didn’t know any different so that was that.
I can’t find it now. I think it was a Buzzfeed article. But it was a list of the 100 hottest men’s names. James was #5. Fuck yeah you know it. If you’re wondering, Liam was #1. Good choice. Liam is a hot name. If I was gay or bi, I’d totally fuck a Liam.
But I like Jamie, now that I don’t give a shit if someone thinks it’s a girl’s name. Go ahead and call me Jamie if you want. Call me Jim (or Jimmy) if you want to be ignored. It won’t register.
And via email, Jeff is okay. Wait, what?
It happens All. The fucking. Time.
People see “James Fell” in an email from me and it merges in their brain and I get replies like “Hi, Jeff. Thanks for your email . . .”
Actually, scratch that. Don’t call me Jeff.
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Also relatable. My real name is "Jerome." I have NEVER gone by "Jerry" (mainly due to a certain cartoon cat & mouse pair). "Jerry" is someone else; I have a friend named Jerry, but I don't feel like we have the same name (I've never actually asked him what it was short for...).
The only people who ever called me that were the neighbors who lived downstairs in the duplex that was my childhood home.
There was also an incident of sexual abuse perpetrated on me by the teenage boy who lived there, which further distances me from accepting "Jerry" as my own name. I was maybe 8. I felt something was wrong, so I did everything I could to avoid him from then on, though I never told my parents.
He joined the US Navy after he graduated from high school. He came back home once, years later when I was a teen, much bigger, and a fully functioning memory.
He refused to look me in the eye.
I'm not Jerry. I didn't like the name for myself BEFORE the incident. Wow, okay, this was some unexpected repressed memories surfacing.....
In business communication, I get called "Jeremy" a lot, though (just to end this comment on a more positive note).
Relatable! My kid never allows anyone to call him Tony. When he was 3 someone called him Tony and he stood up to this 6'6" man and said "My name is not Tony, you can call me by my real name".