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Please Don't Mistake Me For Another Brown Girl

   

On one of my first assignments at a large corporation, no one could remember my name. It wasn't because they couldn't pronounce it. It wasn't because they had never met me. It wasn't because they had forgotten it. It was because everyone kept calling me by someone else's name.

They would call me by her name with such confidence, stating it loudly and firmly. They would greet me, ask questions, follow up with me, all while addressing me by someone else's name. They would refer to me by the other name even when I wasn't in the room. There was no doubt in their mind. My name was simply not Mita. Really.

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