Being and Becoming Luke

I’m fascinated by the names people give us and the ones we give ourselves.

A young child with curly hair is sitting in a kitchen sink, playing with the water from the faucet like an improv actor. The kitchen has wooden cabinets and floral wallpaper. Various kitchen items are on the counter, and an old-fashioned radio provides a social therapeutic ambiance in the background.

The Names We Are Given

My parents gave me the name Anthony Thomas Perone III when I was born, as a reflection and extension of my father and his father. Throughout my early and middle childhood, I went by Anthony and I chose to transition to the first name Tony once I started high school. A few nicknames also came my way from family and friends when I was young. When one of my sisters was young, she called me “Bubba” (her way of saying “brother”) and when my brother was a young child, he called me “Buddy” (based on a doll sold in the 1980s called “My Buddy”). “Buddy” stuck with me (my sister moved from “Bubba” as a child and still calls me “Buddy”) and morphs; my nieces and nephews call me “Uncle Bud.” New names came my way; for example, these days my brother and I address each other as “Bro.”  Throughout my adolescence and adulthood, friends have given me nicknames such as “Flash” (a rib from cross-country teammates on my poor ability to run long-distance races during high school) or “Dr. Avo” (a loving nod from friends in adulthood to honor my daily avocado consumption). There are certainly other names people have given me throughout my life that reflect who I have been to them and/or how they have seen me.
A young child is sitting in a baby walker indoors, covering their face with one hand. Wearing a dark jacket and red plaid pants, the little one seems to be playing an improv game. Behind the child is a floral-patterned armchair, with a wrapped gift on the floor to the left.
A close-up photo of a young man with short dark hair, smiling broadly at the camera. The background is red, and the image appears to be a slightly worn identification picture, perhaps taken during one of his social therapeutic improv sessions.
This phrase “who I have been to them and/or how they have seen me” floats throughout the previous and other examples of my (nick)names. I’ve lived in this world with the names people have put upon me and that I have almost always taken as the option(s) people have when they refer to me. This activity of people naming other people (and objects) seems like an everyday task. We name our children, languages include all kinds of labels to denote things and activities, and we often just take it as “that’s their name.”
 
As an play activist, developmentalist, and yogi, I have questioned and reflected on the power of naming in my life. The names I have been given have all sat differently with me, some resonating more with me than others. On the one hand, I have loved the intimacy and playfulness of my friends calling me “Dr. Avo” and the family unity and playfulness of calling me variations on “Bud.” On the other hand, I never liked my birth name and reflect on my desire to transition from Anthony to Tony as taking some ownership of what people call me. This activity of (re)naming ourselves is a powerful one; it’s an opportunity to invite new ways of seeing and relating to ourselves and our world. I remember feeling more mature and “cooler” when I went around and was referred to as “Tony” and I cringed a bit when people still called me “Anthony.”  I accepted “Tony” as the best option going forward in public and professional spaces and figured new nicknames might appear, but this was my name, and it was going to stick with me.
 

The Names We Give Ourselves

Yet over my years of co-creating imaginative play, meditating, and wondering about the activity of naming, I came into a new way of living, tapping into the “name(s) I am called to be called” and that this calling emerges from who I am and who I am becoming. A few years ago, I began a playful practice of reflecting who I was and was becoming and felt the power to let go of the name I was given upon my birth. I didn’t go into an intentional  revision of myself and look for a new name; I let the name emerge spontaneously. At the beginning of this playful, reflective activity, I met strangers with whatever name just came up: Xavier was the first one I tried out. It was so fun to introduce myself as Xavier and create how I perform as Xavier. Over the course of this name-making journey, I landed on a name that indeed felt like the name I have been called to be called: Luke. It’s been thrilling to be who I have been (e.g., Buddy) and bring into being Luke. It’s not been mere label changing; this renaming has transformed how I show up and develop (with/in) in this world and how others see me. It serves as a powerful reminder that we can take on new activity that supports us to be and become and how playful and growthful, and not fixed, naming can be.
 
So, who are you? Who are you becoming? How can you keep giving your development to the world and create who you are called to be called? I’d love to hear your curiosities and possibilities.
Luke Perone smiles at the camera. He is wearing a red hoodie over a patterned shirt. The background shows a building with arched windows painted blue, and a lighted neon sign is visible, hinting at an improv club known for its social therapeutic impact.

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