Call Me By My Name Oluwaferanmi Fadayomi   © Copyright 2025 by Oluwaferanmi Fadayomi

Photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash

“Feranmi don’t do that” I often say to myself, not because I did something inherently wrong but because I love hearing the sound of my name.Oluwaferanmi means “God loves me”, my mother had given me the name saying it was a spoken declaration of blessing into my existence. But over time, Oluwaferanmi became Feranmi then Farrah. Somewhere along the line, my name had shortened, softened to fit the world around me. But in that process, did I lose something?.

At home, I was always Feranmi—Oluwaferanmi, being too long and formal. It was sung, not spoken “Fẹ́rànmi” my mother would call out, stretching the words like a melody. But outside, my name started to change in ways I couldn’t control—shortened, twisted and lost. It started with me moving to America. It felt wrong to hear my name pronounced so badly, bent in ways it shouldn’t be . “Fe-ran-mi” I would try to enunciate carefully to my classmates but after hearing a bunch of “feranomi’s” and “fe-ra-mi’s”, I slowly gave up.

Then the embarrassment came, when I heard teachers struggle to pronounce my name correctly during roll call. I dreaded having substitute teachers because it was such a defeating moment to raise my hand in a hurry when they struggled to get out an “O-lu”. The cycle of starting a new semester with new teachers was even worse as I would hear giggles from classmates as the teacher tried to squeeze out my name, a reminder that my name did not belong in their mouths. The ache in my chest grew larger and sweat hugged my palms.

The first time someone called me “Fera”, it was like a flip switched, like I finally had a way to control my name. It was a teacher I hated so I had to make the name mine, something that didn’t remind me of the bullying she had overlooked. Farrah. A quick google search had produced it, a name that felt familiar yet so distant. It looked right on paper, sounded soft on the tongue and most importantly—easy. It was easy enough to call out as the teacher struggled to get my given name out. “It’s Farrah” I would say in a hurry as my heart beat out of my chest. It was soft enough for my middle school classmates to say as we giggled about our crushes “Oh Farrah, who do you like?” they would say as the excitement bubbled in my chest.

By high school, it was only Farrah except for my best friend and family friends that had followed me there. My given name only appeared on the first days of semesters, days I would dread because once again I would have to explain “I go by Farrah” .

At first, it felt like a shield, a way to avoid the stares and giggles that followed every mispronunciation. But the more I introduced myself as Farrah,the more I wondered if I was erasing something important. Was I making my life easier or was I making myself smaller?.

For years, I let Farrah be my introduction to the world. It was comfortable, easy and free of mispronunciation. But something felt missing, the ache in my chest grew even larger. Everytime I said Farrah, it felt like I was borrowing something that wasn’t mine. And when I heard my family and best friend say Feranmi, it felt like a secret, something only a few people know. It carried something Farrah could never be—- love, meaning and history.

Even now, I introduce myself as Farrah to professors and classmates. It’s easier, but the feeling in my chest doesn’t fade so instead, I say Feranmi to myself. I say it out loud to myself to remind myself that it’s still mine. I write it down on paper to show that it’s mine.

Maybe one day, I’ll correct a professor. Maybe I won’t. But for now, I say my name like a prayer, a reminder of who I am. Feranmi, Feranmi, Feranmi. Until the world learns to say it too.

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Oluwaferanmi Fadayomi is a Nigerian-American college student and emerging writer with a love for emotionally rich, character-driven stories. Call Me By My Name is a deeply personal piece that explores themes of identity, family, and self-acceptance. Oluwaferanmi is currently studying biology with hopes of becoming a doctor, but writing remains one of her greatest passions.