Opinion
By Michelle Lamont
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January 27, 2009
WHEN I was in elementary school, there were two other kids in my class named ?Michelle.? I was thus sulkily resigned to being known as ?Michelle L.,? and I frequently complained to my mother that I wished I could feel as singular and special as the girl who sat in front of me in homeroom, whose name was ?Destiny.? I was infinitely jealous of a family friend?s daughter named ?Starlite,? and I fantasized that I would legally change my name to ?Rose-Dust.? Then, my 10-year-old self thought ruefully, I?d never again have to look around to see if people really meant me when they called out my name.