I Will Not Change My Name Because You Can’t Pronounce It

The roots of name discrimination are an extension of the harms caused by slavery and colonialism

Kovie Biakolo
ZORA

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Yewande Biala attends the Paul Costelloe front row during London Fashion Week September 2019.

For the Urhobo people of southern Nigeria, like many Africans across the continent, names are a serious matter. Traditionally, an Urhobo child is given a name according to their family’s desire for who they might become, the hope being that a child will live up to the likeness of what their name means. Today, Urhobo children are often named by one of their parents, but historically it was common for a grandparent or an older relative to name a child in keeping with the gerontocratic culture.

In my family, the story goes that when my maternal grandfather was born, his grandfather, Abogor (“something you give respect to”), saw the baby and declared his name Shifikovie. In Urhobo, this means “this chief is a king.” His grandfather, Emoefe (“children are riches”), was a king of an Urhobo ẹkpotọ or kingdom. My grandfather would be a chief until his death, the year I was born. We never met, but my mother was pregnant with me when he died, and in honor of him, she called me Shifikovie too.

I’ve gone by the latter half of the full name for as long as I can remember — Kovie. It’s pronounced “kov-yay,” and consequently, people sometimes think it is…

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Kovie Biakolo
ZORA
Writer for

Culture writer and multiculturalism scholar. Find my best stuff here: www.koviebiakolo.com