“If I am a tower, then I name myself with the knowledge that I will be dispersed, not that I will cohere. Any name can be destroyed, can destroy itself. My value is not in my permanence but in the resilience with which I recover, and re-cover, and re-form after the deluge. I know myself only insofar as I know that I will always surprise myself, that ‘I’ will collapse and be scrambled whenever I think my own structure is sound...when the deluge comes I will be washed away, nameless” (A Year Without A Name 152).


 "Sometimes you have a name, sometimes you are named for what—not who—you are. The story always looks a little different, depending on who is telling it...whatever names me, breaks me" (In the Dream House 37).


“There’s power in naming yourself, in proclaiming to the world that this is who you are. Wielding this power is often a difficult step for many trans people, because it’s also a very visible one. To announce your gender in name, dress, and pronouns in your school, place of work, neighborhood, and state is a public process, one in which trans people must literally petition authorities to approve name and gender marker changes on identification cards and public records. Becoming comfortable with your identity is step one; the next step is revealing that identity to those around you” (Redefining Realness 144).

"The ambiguity that name changes allow—maybe the person is exactly who the reader thinks they are, maybe they aren't" (Another Appalachia 125).