When I first moved into my apartment, I placed handwritten notes on my neighbors’ welcome mats introducing myself and offering my phone number in case they ever needed me. Lucy* was the only one to respond with a phone call. She started to ask if I could help move a desk for her but quickly rescinded when she heard my voice. “I’m sorry, I read ‘Sam’ and thought you were a man,” she backpedaled. Eager at the chance to meet someone, I insisted on helping and pulled on my sneakers.

I was substantially smaller than she expected, and I struggled with the weight of the desk. I may not have been the best help, but she was grateful and, with the desk in its proper place, we returned to our quiet tenantship.

This happens often. Emails signed by ‘Sam’ receive direct responses with a level of speed ‘Samantha’ does not get. A cold request for a meeting at a prior company was met with an enthusiastic “Of course, bro!” (the look of surprise upon meeting!). An old coworker once boldly shared that the reason my resume was approved for an interview was because he ‘liked my name.’

The decision to be called ‘Sam’ in workplaces happened slowly. While I’ve carried the name in my personal life for years, I feared it might arrest my professional development. Occasionally, new co-workers replace my name with ‘Sara,’ the result of a lazy drop off at the first syllable. When introducing myself to older white male colleagues, without fail I am met with the quip, “short for Samantha?” I appreciate the conversation, but I have to wonder if Matt and Dan and Mike are asked the same so frequently. To me, the work to feminize my name also works to enforce gender norms.

As my work experience grows internationally, the names that surround me are richer and more unique. I also witness how these names fall to victim to mispronunciations, unapproved modifications, and blank stares. In a time that calls on companies to prioritize inclusion and as executive teams grapple with where to start, a first step could be to simply honor and acknowledge chosen names. Especially now, where conversations take place through a screen, pronouncing a co-worker’s name correctly can serve as a closer point of connection.

What sealed my identity as ‘Sam’ was simply that it made me feel like me. My great-grandfather and namesake (Sam, not Samuel) emigrated alone from Czechoslovakia at thirteen and enlisted in the Navy where he served for twenty years. He dedicated his life to provide our family with safety and security. As I watched my great-grandfather continue to manage and fix in his later years, his work ethic burrowed and bloomed in me. Now, navigating the murky waters of career growth, I feel dedicated to finding a way for our work to shine unencumbered by bias and norm. To merge personal and professional identities as a celebration of the authentic self. And to hold our chosen names as a talisman in landing safely through it all.

(Photo: 9 to 5)

*Names have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.