$500 and 5 years later Story by: Xoe Miller

I never knew that I was different. To me, all families looked the way mine did. I was five years old. How was I supposed to know that being a biracial child in an all white family wasn’t normal? How could I know that people would see me as a threat? Then again, I’d like to think why would anyone think of such things in the first place? Nonetheless, I grew up in a loving and accepting family, even though as I grew older I soon found out that the world wasn’t so thrilled.

My name is Xoe, pronounced like Zoey but with an “X”, and I legally changed my full name a year ago. I grew up with two younger brothers, now 20 and 17, and a single mother who served 20 years in the United States Navy. My family has always played a big role in my life. When we were kids, my mom used to wake us up at 3 a.m. and we would drive 12 hours to visit my grandparents in Florida for the holidays. She said it was the easiest way for her to travel, because we’d sleep most of the time. We’d always make it to my grandparents by dinner time, and my grandma would make us delicious meals and all the desserts you can think of. She’d spend a week preparing for us and would plan our entire holiday there. For Christmas she’d have a stack of newspapers and magazines that she had been saving for the last few weeks. One by one she’d call my brothers and I into the dining room and would have us pick out our gifts for each other. Then one by one she’d take us to the store to get the toys we picked and would help us to wrap them.

Pop-Pop would take us out on the boat and we’d go fishing. He’d also take my brothers tubing but I was too scared to go. We’d come for the summer and grandma would plan the entire three months. Trips to the park, feeding the ducks, going to the library once a week, the movies every Tuesday, grocery shopping at 7 a.m., beach trips that were just as early, Disney, Sea World, Animal Kingdom, Epcot, Universal Studios, and the backyard pool were just a few things we’d do. She taught us how to swim and float in the pool, and called us her little fish. This is the world I grew up in and is the only place I’ve ever belonged.

Fast-forward to today and things have changed. Once I started going to school, as early as pre-school, I started to get bullied. I remember his name to this day: Michael. He was the kid from Tennessee who used to pull my hair and throw things at me. Every day. There were also twin sisters who would join in from time to time, as if when Michael got tired they’d indulge on the routine. I’ll never forget the time it was my birthday and the two girls approached me on the playground. “It’s her birthday, we’ll leave her alone for today.”

From Tennessee, to Virginia, to Florida and everywhere I went the bullying seemed to follow. I was bullied because I looked different from my mom...from my family. My brothers and I look different, I was always told. To some, that’s not OK. To make matters worse, who I am as a person didn’t stereo typically match the name I was given.

My mom didn’t name me when I was born, my god mother did. I was Jameisha Jashae. My mom gave me my father’s last name, and I carried it until I was 21. The bullying became less physical as I got older but it got more mental and emotional. If you ask me, there were times I’d rather it be physical because the pain and scars don’t last as long.

When I was 15 I was called the “N word” for the first time by an older girl on the varsity volleyball team. When I told the head coach, she contacted the athletic director who then spoke to me. The athletic director called my mom afterward and told her that she was very “surprised” by me. She said I conducted myself so well and wasn’t expecting it. At the time, my name was Jameisha. I had never met the director before. All she had was my name on a sheet of paper.

You can guess what she was so surprised about. The varsity girl still played on the team and continued to bring her biracial child to practices. I know, I’m still confused to this day. Instances like this always happened. People always assumed that I would behave one way just because of my name. That’s not fair.

As rough as all of that sounds, the bullying and constant character assumptions from people that were three times my age, all of that wasn’t the main reason as to why I changed my name. I had my dad’s last name until October 2018. If I had it my way, I would’ve had this done five years ago. My dad is an absentee parent. When I was 16, I was living in Virginia and I had about enough; enough with everything. I wanted to change my name because I felt like Xoe is who I always had been. And I always wanted my mom’s last name. So I reached out to my dad and he called me for the first time in 10 years. We spoke, and after he accused my mom of “putting me up to this” and crying, telling me he’d “do whatever I want,” I sent him the paperwork for him to sign so I could change my name. In Virginia, you had to have consent from both parents if you were under the age of 18 in order to legally change your name. It’s very cheap and easy to do as long as both parents sign the documents. We were moving in a year but that was plenty of time I thought. That was the last time I ever spoke to my dad. I sent him text messages and left voicemails.

I even went as far as sitting down on the computer and watching his online status to see when he was on Facebook. Once that little green circle popped up next to his profile picture I would send him a message, asking if he had gotten the paperwork or had sent it back already. Nothing.

After a year, time had run out and we moved to Florida where it cost $400 just in court fees to change your name. After awhile I decided to go back and look at the Facebook messages, to see if he ever got them. I never knew if he ever got the regular text messages I sent because he didn’t have an iPhone. So I opened the messages and under my 10th one, it said “read on 8/5/2014.”

Once I turned 18 I didn’t need parental consent anymore. But I also didn’t have the money. So for three years I saved up over $500 to start the name changing process. It was a long and expensive one but I made it through. On October 3, 2018, I legally changed my full name. I always liked the name “Zoey” but I wanted it to be unique and different, like how Jameisha was. My mom picked out the spelling, Xoe, and it worked out because since she didn’t name me the first time, she got to do so the second time. I feel like everyone’s name has history, so my middle name came from my great grandmother’s maiden one. And finally, my last name.

I said earlier that my two brothers and I were raised by a single parent, our mom. I played sports when I was little and continued all throughout high school; three of them. My jerseys always had “Byers” on the back and I was always in the front of the line or in the classroom when we’d be in alphabetical order. “Byers” is on my high school diploma. My mom has always gone above and beyond for us. She gave us everything we wanted, needed, and then some. She’s paying my sorority dues. Because of her I will graduate from the University of Florida, the 7th best public university in America, without a single penny in debt. So one thing is for certain, her last name might not have been on my high school diploma but it definitely will be on the diploma I get in May. I’ve always wanted to be a “Miller” because that’s the family I grew up in. They are the people who made me who I am. Just because my skin color is different than my family, doesn’t mean I’m different. My family is normal. And I know I’m lucky to have such a great support system. They are the foundation of who I am. I owe my mom my life, because she’s given me the world. People thought I changed my name because I’m ashamed of who I am, and that I needed to talk to God before I made my decision. Funny thing is, He and I have been talking for a very long time and I know that if He’s not ashamed, then why should I? Many were upset when they found out I changed my name. To them, I’d always been “Jameisha” and they hoped I was happy with what I had done. I’m nowhere near close to figuring out who I am, but changing my name was a big step in doing so. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I finally get to be Xoe and a Miller. Some asked about what I was going to do when I got married. Simple answer: hyphenate it. I learned to never let anyone tell me who I am, or that my name defines me. You should always be judged on your character first, not on your skin color or how your name sounds. I didn’t become Xoe, I always have been. ~XOXOXOE