In the late ‘80s, my spouse Loyda and I, originally from Cuba, moved to Louisville with our small children to attend seminary. A fellow white Anglo student tried to say Loyda’s name but kept mispronouncing it. He finally asked, “Why don’t you change your name?” My wife replied, “If I have to learn how to pronounce yours, you better learn how to pronounce mine.”
People’s given names say a lot about their pride, their identity, their ancestry and even their faith. Justice and respect say should honor those names.
I am an immigrant and a former refugee. I came from Cuba to the United States via Spain in the late ’60s. I belong to that group of people from the “Global South’’ who began migrating to this country by the millions after the liberalization of immigration laws in 1965.
I am an immigrant and a former refugee. I came from Cuba to the United States via Spain in the late ’60s. I belong to that group of people from the “Global South’’ who began migrating to this country by the millions after the liberalization of immigration laws in 1965.