That was the first time I really saw him as a person and not as “Crazy Bird,” so from that moment on, I decided to call him by his name, even though the others continued using the nickname. Over time, Rodrigo became one of my best friends, I think the best confidant that he shares with me until now, even if it is through the Internet because he lives in Mexico with his wife and two daughters. He was one of my most loyal clients when he bought some “chuche” that I used to sell, showing me a brilliant personality that had been hidden under the shadow of that ridiculous nickname that did not represent him.

That small change, that decision to call him "Rodrigo" didn't change the world, but I did know that it had made a difference, at least for him and for me, even when we went to have a glass of ice-cold clamato in a hole we found together. I learned that nicknames, as innocent as they may seem, can be daggers that stab a person's self-esteem, since behind each name there is a story, an identity, a human being who deserves respect.

Nicknames have an inherent power, they are like a kind of silent magic that can unite or separate people. From the most intimate corners of the home to the most public spaces like schools and offices, nicknames almost always arise from the need to name something that seems to escape formal names. Sometimes they are a game, a reflection of closeness, affection, or even admiration.

However, other nicknames are a mark that carries a weight that is harder to ignore, especially when what is intended to be funny hurts unintentionally, or worse, with all the intention in the world. It is fascinating to think about how nicknames are born from minimal details: a physical peculiarity, a personality trait, an anecdote that is engraved in the collective memory. As children, they are usually tender, almost harmless, in a relationship they are usually romantic and even spicier than a habanero pepper, however, in other instances the words, although brief, begin to have edges and many times, nicknames carry the weight of prejudices, of the labels that society has decided to stick on our foreheads because of our last name, body build or skin color, and that is where the silent battles begin, those in which we try to decide whether to ignore, confront or simply accept the nickname, as if it were a second name that we never chose.

Some nicknames manage to transcend the negative, becoming an alternate identity, something the bearer wears with pride because it transcends mockery or criticism; others, however, leave wounds that take years to heal, if they ever do. Nicknames can be cruel reminders of the insecurities we try to hide and also an excuse for someone else to exert power over us, yet they are inevitable. In every culture, in every corner of the world, nicknames persist as a way of interacting that reveals as much about the giver as the receiver.

The key is in the context, since a nickname in the mouth of a dear friend can be a treasure, a symbol of trust, a rare form of sincere affection, but in a hostile space, the same word can be a missile, so choosing what we say, how we say it and when we say it is a more important act than it seems. We know that words have weight and even if a nickname seems light, its emotional charge can be enormous because nicknames tend to be more than mirrors, reflecting how we see others, but also how they see us. Perhaps that is why it is worth asking ourselves what stories we are writing when we call someone by a name other than theirs, because between play and judgment, between laughter and hurt, something deeper is written: the story of our relationships with other human beings.

Now, every time I meet someone, I make an effort to remember their name, because it is the simplest and most powerful way to say: “I see you, I recognize you, and you deserve to be treated with dignity,” and that is something I also instill in my children because it is not enough to avoid making fun of someone, but it is also about our responsibility not to perpetuate nicknames that hurt, not even as spectators because in the end, words have the power to build or destroy and it is always better to choose to build.

I'll read them later.

Bye.

Fuente-Source