One
of the earliest Biblical legends tells of God displaying all the creatures
to Adam so that Adam can name them. God Himself named Adam, and Adam named
Eve. In magical terms, one who knows the true name of a thing has power
over that thing — or that person. Down through the ages, names have
had the power to unite or divide. Names designate with whom you agree —
"friend," "ally," "partner," "comrade"
— or whom you oppose — "enemy," "bastard,"
"foe."
Names have the power to make you doubt your worth, the power to bring you hurt. Every one of us has faced those words at some time in our lives — "egghead," "faggot," "nigger," "kike," "crip," "spic," "Teacher's Pet." And every one of us has had to find the strength within ourselves to take the hurtful power of those words, fling them back at their users and gain our own power from that rejection.
What does this have to do with Mensa? Lots. We all know the names turned labels — "troublemaker," "malcontent," "GripeWhine," "complainer." We all know the now pat phrases, too, their meanings shaded by malice to become their own kind of name — "have a nice day," "contributor to Going Forward," "please pass the salt," "we only have the good of Mensa at heart," "you don't have all the information." And the worst one of all: "If you keep this up, no one will want to talk to you." It's really hard, in a society where social outcast status is for so many a legacy of their youth, to find the strength within to ignore these names, letting them ricochet back to wound their users. But it's the only way to defeat their poison.
Magic says the power is in the name. It's nice to think so — but it's not true. The power is in ourselves, in our belief in our own worth and our desire to be treated as equals, to be respected for our concerns and our opinions. The power is where it has always been — in our hearts, in our minds and in our spirits.
And when each of us realizes that we can and do own that power, no name can ever take it away.