[note: this Homily was delivered on February 9th, 2025, following reflections offered byJuniper Sweeney and ML Pretz. There are slight variations between the text below and the live recording at First Unitarian Church of Philadelphia. Between this text and the video, something might resonate with you. Therefore, I invite you to also click here or on the image below to watch the recording. Click here for the slide deck.]
I’m the Reverend Alexandre da Silva Souto rev for short. My pronouns are they & them. I’m a brown exiled immigrant from Brazil. I’m in my early 50s with silver hair [like my father’s mother] & trimmed beard. I am wearing reading glasses, a white robe, green stole that someone thought was for the Eagles two weeks ago. But today, I’m wearing an Eagles t-shirt as well, so Go Birds!
"What's in a name?"
Asks Juliet Capulet in Act 2 Scene 2 of William Shakespeare’s “Romeo & Juliet”
She advances her argument by stating…
“That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet” What a sublime truth, isn’t it?! And how poetically stated…
Names are necessary conventions for identification & communication. But names themselves are not the essence of things or the actual people who bear those names.
What we call water here is mizu 水 in Japan, [some congregants spontaneously joke about the unique pronunciation of water in PA], is água in my mother tongue (Portuguese). And, most importantly, none of these names can ever comprehensively convey the reality of water. You have to taste water to know what water is.
Yet, names imbue a particular worth and meaning to things and people. Don’t they?
Both Democracy & Plutocracy [look this word up] are changing the significance of last names. So, I’d argue that the quintessential love story of Romeo & Juliet would have greater chances of a better ending nowadays.
However, I think they’d still have a hell of a time trying to get birth certificates for their children whilst avoiding family feuds. [Do you foresee the potential troubles?]
I guess they could combine both last names through hyphenation, since it is legal. But then, which name is first and which is second?
I, for one, tried to keep my three-part last name when I moved to the US in 1996, but it got rather Shakespearean.
During the research for this homily, I began to wonder how it must’ve gone for Prince Harry to get a CA driver’s license since his real name is: Henry Charles Albert David. Yep, just four first names, or four forenames, if I were to be punny… and no official surname.
Apparently, only red-blooded humans require a last name in the US, and it can only be one, even if it has to be through the mighty power of hyphenation.
I also wondered if the traditional royal dispensation of last names was inspired by Juliet challenging the relevance of a person’s last name.
I didn’t go too far on that rabbit whole, but I learned that Prince Harry’s official name listed on his son Archie's birth certificate is His Royal Highness Henry Charles Albert David Duke of Sussex.
Yeah, I soooo wish I was behind him at the DMV line. Can you imagine the clerk picking up the form and every little box for name, middle name, last name, address, and even date of birth is taken up by the 51 letters and 9 spaces in his name?
Well… I learnt, Harry did have to go to the DMV. But there are speculations that he might’ve used “Mountbatten-Windsor” for his Driver’s License. Apparently, this is the personal surname used by some of the male-line descendants of Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh.
Now, the funniest thing is that his son, Archie, in effect, has two nicknames rather than a name and a middle name, because Archie is traditionally a nickname, not a formal full name. Harrison refers to him being “Harry's son” (although Harry's real name is Henry). Cute right?!?!
Ok, ok, that’s as far as I went on this Royal Rabbit Hole so enough of Harry & and our princess Meghan and Romeo & Juliet.
Then let me get into my own fairy-tale… wink wink to the Radical Fairies in the house, but I’ll leave the hot romantic entanglements for another time…
My Christian name, or forename, if you will, is Alexandre. Not Alexander, not Alexandre. Alexandre! It was chosen by my maternal grandmother, Dona Sebastiana Benedita Madruga da Silva. My last name is a combination of the last part of my mother’s last name, da Silva (of course, inherited from her father) and the last portion of my father’s name, Souto (passed on to him from his father). Yes, we take on our mother’s last names as well as our father’s last name, but it is a patriarchal lineage when it comes to our names.
Both of my last names are Portuguese and Galician, and there are variations of these last names in Spanish. Souto means "grove" or "small wood". Silva means "forest, woodland, or jungle”. Albeit related, these are distinct terms and last names. [on the screen, you can see how the AI sees me and my ancestry]
However, the DMV clerk in San Francisco back in 1996 decided to rename me on the spot.
According to this person’s opinion or DMV standards at that time, my last name was too long.
Simple as that! She looked me straight in the eye and said, “Your last name won’t fit on the form, so pick one to be your last name and the other will be your middle name.”
I’m like, what…??? Is this person I met less than 5 minutes ago trying to rename me???
About a year later, I learned about Ellis Island, so it made total sense in retrospect.
But on the spot, I conditionally knew that I should not argue with a government official, since I had spent 13 years of my childhood under a military dictatorship. [by the way, go see the movie “I’m Still Here”] Little did I know how much firsthand experience I would end up having with government-sponsored identity-based discrimination.
So, just like that I went from having two last names to having only one and a middle name that was not a middle name to begin with.
Granted… I had previously lived for a year as “Alex Souto” when I was a high school exchange student in Paris, Missouri, that is, but that was more like a travel alias, or pen name, not a legally binding change of identity imposed by some bureaucrat shoving me into an officially limited number of boxes.
I had chopped my first name for assimilation’s sake in day-to-day interactions. I “clipped my wings” for the comfort and accommodation of non-Portuguese speakers (lusophone), but now I was being expected to cut off some of my roots to become this Alex Souto, instead of being who I was, Alexandre da Silva Souto.
Still… I went along with it because I needed an ID and one must pick one’s battles.
And true… it did afford me some degrees of convenience.
I must also confess that it was annoying to learn how to draw 13 unique letters in kindergarten, (all the 5 vowels) just so I could write my full name. But kids in Brazil have long-ass names.
My daughter’s name is Milena Marie Yamada Souto. Yes, one extra letter than mine. That’s not unusual. Most Brazilian kids have to learn the entire alphabet just so they can write their own names.
… on the topic of long-ass … During the signing of my naturalization papers, I had to initial a ton of paper in front of the immigration officer. I panicked a bit and ended up dropping the letter “d” from “da Silva” because “da” means “of” so, for over a dozen times
I wrote ASS right in front of the immigration officer and my attorney. That made me feel like a Brazilian Bart Simpson rebelliously writing ass, ass, ass, ass, ass… on the blackboard during the opening credits.
I hope that I am not coming across as an ungrateful brat, especially considering that I did not have to deal with the challenges of my birth name being in a completely different alphabet like so many of our immigrant siblings who are often forced to take on entirely different names. So many immigrants feel that they have to become John, Rose, Bob, and Jessica because of cultural hegemony and linguistic intolerance.
On a cultural note… When I finished my indentured servitude in Japan, …yes, you heard it correctly, but I’ll have to save that one for another day. I got a fine corporate job with Shimano but they renamed me Mr. Yamada (Yamada ismy former wife’s last name) for assimilation purposes, and so I could have a hanko; which is a stamp (a personal seal) used in Japan to verify identity in official documents, banking, and informal uses instead of a signature. Yes, I was Mr. Yamada!
The 1983 Styx song comes to mind. Do you know the one I’m talking about…? Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto
どうもありがと Mr. Roboto どうもありがと Mr. Roboto また会う日まで どうもありがと Mr. Roboto 秘密を知りたい
Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto Mata ahoo dima de Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto Himitsu wo Shiri tai.
You're wondering who I am (secret, secret, I've got a secret) Machine or mannequin? (Secret, secret, I've got a secret) With parts made in Japan (secret, secret, I've got a secret) I am thee modern man
[the following verses were omitted from the delivered homily]
I've got a secret, I've been hiding under my skin My heart is human, my blood is boiling, my brain IBM So if you see me acting strangely, don't be surprised I'm just a man who needed someone and somewhere to hide to keep me alive Just keep me alive, somewhere to hide, to keep me alive I'm not a robot without emotions, I'm not what you see I've come to help you with your problems so we can be free I'm not a hero, I'm not the saviour, forget what you know I'm just a man whose circumstances went beyond his control Beyond my control, we all need control I need control, we all need control I am thee modern man (secret, secret, I've got a secret) Who hides behind a mask (secret, secret, I've got a secret) So no one else can see (secret, secret, I've got a secret) My true identity Thank you very much, Mr. Roboto For doing the jobs that nobody wants to And thank you very much, Mr. Roboto For helping me escape, when I needed to Thank you, thank you, thank you I want to thank you Please, thank you, oh-oh-oh, yeah The problem's plain to see Too much technology Machines to save our lives Machines dehumanize The time has come at last (secret, secret, I've got a secret) To throw away this mask (secret, secret, I've got a secret) Now everyone can see (secret, secret, I've got a secret) My true identity I'm Kilroy, Kilroy, Kilroy, Kilroy
Ok… Back to the US of A…
Do you know that it is virtually impossible not to have a last name in our country? If a person comes from a culture that does not use last names, their first name becomes their last name. And if they want to retain their first name, their last name becomes LNU (last name unknown).
Now… how much of it is because we want people to have their unique identity, and how much of it is because people, and especially some “categories” of people have been commodified since time immemorial?
I’m sure many of you are familiar with Margaret Atwood’s 1985 book “The Handmaid’s Tale” where women are renamed after their assigned Commanders. The main character is Offred and there is Ofglen and many others.
In this dystopian world, women are only known for the functions assigned to them. The Marthas are the women who are responsible for cooking, cleaning, and caring for children born to Handmaids. The Jezebels were women forced into sex trafficking.
Let’s take a breath of fresh air with a quote by the Polish-born, French-American mathematician, Benoît Mandelbrot
“What’s Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man.”
Juliet lovingly proclaims…
Yet, names are impregnated with meaning, suffused with dignity, and imbued with power.
God then told them, “Look! I give you every seed-bearing plant on the face of the earth, and every tree whose fruit carries its seed inside itself: they will be your food; and to all the animals of the earth and the birds of the air and things that crawl on the ground --- everything that has a living soul in it – I give all the green plants for food.” So it was. God looked at all of this creation, and proclaimed that this was good – very good. ~Genesis 1:29-31 (The Inclusive Bible)
God proclaimed this creation good…
However, humans have devolved into a practice of naming things and re-naming people to exert power over them, to deny their true meaning, to deprive them of dignity and self-determination.
So this morning, Beloveds… I invite you to discover and reclaim the beauty and the power of your identities.
And protect the dignity and delight that can be taken from you if you do not know who you are.
The flamboyant designer Iris Apfel said…
“You don’t find out who you are unless you work at it” ~Iris Apfel
So please work at it, Beloveds…
“Know Thyself”
It is an aphorism inscribed in the forecourt of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi, according to the Greek writer Pausanias.
“Know Thyself” and remain open to transforming for we are much more wondrous and complex than the boxes, we are pushed into.
And for the love of all that is Sacred… let us allow others to go through their own journeys of self-discovery and self-determination.
Identity-based discrimination is at the root of most [if not all] isms and a major tool of fascism. And fascism is undeniably on the rise.
Therefore, let us resist by reclaiming our identities, by being our most authentic and radiant selves, by remaining in solidarity with the most vulnerable and targeted ones.
For the final act of this story…
I have serious issues with the overall principles of the book “How to Win Friends and Influence People” by the Missourian self-improvement writer and corporate trainer Dale Carnegie, but I must give it to him when he states that…
“A person’s name is to [them] him or her the sweetest and most important sound in any language.” ~Dale Carnegie
In that spirit… My name is Alexandre da Silva Souto. I’ve had many other names. Some were lovingly given to me (like “Alif”, Ale, Menino Dju, Naomi, Preto…), And too many were imposed. I had some convenient and fun times being Alex Souto But that is no longer a name answer to.
Nowadays, I go by rev r e v paradoxically, all lower case inspired by the principle of the American author, theorist, educator, and social critic bell hooks. rev is a name I have given myself and I offer it to you for the sake of appropriate intimacy.
In an ironic closing…
I need to share that the Driver’s License I got in 2022 when I moved back to CA after 12 years in CT, has the same number as the first ID I got in 1996.
However, this time around, my last name is properly recorded as da Silva Souto, and the bonus is that my gender marker is also properly listed as X not M, not F X X, as the non-binary marker. X, as well as in Xande which is the nickname my family uses for me.
Sadly, my US passport expires this year and like some of you who won’t be able to renew your passport as you are… I see you, and I affirm you. I see you! That piece of paper is not you. You are who you are despite what the government says.
I invite all of us here to remember… Because when we think of Nazi Germany we forget the terror and oppression of Vichy France (Régime de Vichy; 10 July 1940 – 9 August 1944). If you don’t know what I am talking about, look at 19040s France and the Deported. That’s human history; that’s our history. Look up Mussolini Italy, and we know where Japan was at that time.
But we have to remember where we were as well. The complacency of [the moderates of] our country, and the complacency of the UK, and so-called neutral countries, and how history keeps repeating itself.
Because there were people called snowflakes 10 years ago. There were people called radical leftists [the Canaries in the mine.] They were naming fascism for what it was a while ago. So we have to continue to name things for what they are.
And as we continue to discover who we are(s), as we continue to tell our stories, and as we continue to protect one another, come what may. Let us find the joys of proclaiming our names Our identities.
Advice from Doña Maria Sabina, Mexican healer and poet
"Heal yourself with the light of the sun and the rays of moon. With the sound of the river and the waterfall. With the swaying of the sea and the fluttering of birds. Heal yourself with mint, neem, and eucalyptus. Sweeten with lavender, rosemary, and chamomile. Hug yourself with the cocoa bean and a hint of cinnamon. Put love in tea instead of sugar and drink it looking at the stars. Heal yourself with the kisses that the wind gives you and the hugs of the rain. Stand strong with your bare feet on the ground and with everything that comes from it. Be smarter every day by listening to your intuition, looking at the world with your forehead. Jump, dance, sing, so that you live happier. Heal yourself, with beautiful love, and always remember ... you are the medicine."
“New Name in Glory”, AAHH 593 African-American traditional, arr. by Dr. Robert J. Fryson
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