Say my name

Say my name, and please say it as my name. No puns, no songs, no giggling to yourself like you’re the first person who has ever called me “Joy to the World,” or remarked that it’s such a Joy to see me.

Say my name without co-opting it, making it your own. Be not like the ones who called me (still call me) “My Joy,” claiming my life force, inhaling it like a wraith trying to reconstitute itself by robbing the living of their solidity.  My name is not yours, my essence not for the taking. Tune to my frequency if you wish. Dance to its music, but don’t sweep it off the table into your handbag and disappear into the night.

Say my name without commentary on how appropriate it is for me, how fitting, how right. You don’t see, perhaps, that by doing so you lock me into a cell with thick Lucite walls, where you can study me through a lens of your choosing, looking only for evidence to corroborate your hypothesis as I bounce feverishly from corner to corner, searching for the dimensions of my self, my soul, that were left outside when the key was turned.

Say my name and add some syllables (Joysie, Joyful, Joyus); its too serious as it is. Nickname it up. Add some adornment. Let’s have fun with this – actual, creative fun. Don’t fall back on the expected. I’ve heard it all before.

Say my name without thought of what you want to see. Rather, help me be seen.