Writing about my many names in a previous post, reminded me of the dark time that I changed my first name. This is the humiliating story, written in dialogue form, of the day I went to court to change my name. I was 31 at the time.
In part, this is the story of a black man from the South, who moved to NY, earned 3 doctorates and then moved to middle America. He is an unsung hero and genius that needs his story told to the world. I wrote this in 2017 on Martin Luther King Jr’s Memorial Holiday (several years before the beginning of the "Black Lives Matter" movement of the 2020.)
