by Talia Knox
Every year, the first day of school comes with the same moment.
The teacher pauses. Looks at the roster. Hesitates.
Then they try.
They always try.
And I always say, “It’s okay,” even when it’s not.
Because correcting someone feels heavier than letting it slide. Because I’ve learned that it’s easier to respond to a version of your name than to explain the real one over and over again.
But a name is more than something people call you. It carries history. Language. Family. It carries the way your parents said it when they first chose it.
One day, I stopped saying “it’s okay.”
I corrected them. Gently. Then again when they forgot. It felt uncomfortable. It felt like I was asking for too much. But slowly, they started getting it right. And every time they did, it felt like a small part of me was finally being seen.
Art by Ati Van Twillert, “Seek The Little Things That Comfort You“
About the Author
Talia blends personal voice with storytelling, turning lived experiences and quiet observations into reflective, emotionally honest narratives.