My Name is McCauley

Why your name is worth correcting

The first time I remember correcting someone about my name was when I was six years old.

It was the first day of first grade. Roll call had just started—Carolines, Davids, Jacobs, and Julias called out one after another. The teacher reminded us to speak up if they mispronounced our names.

Then, halfway through the list, they paused—brow furrowed, scanning the page. I could tell they came to one they didn’t recognize. Not from open house, at least.

"Loren?"

That’s me. But also…not me.

My name is McCauley. But it’s also Loren McCauley Palmer. And now, in front of a room full of strangers, I had to explain something that didn’t even make sense to me, yet. Maybe this is why I hate introductions.

If your name has never been inconvenient, this post might not be for you. No hard feelings if you skip it.

But if you’ve ever had to correct someone, explain this core part of your identity, or hear your name completely butchered, I see you.

Don’t get me wrong—I love my name. I love that it’s unique. I love that it’s memorable. I love that it’s associated with the best movies of all time (Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal) There are far worse inconveniences in life than having to explain it.

But let me break it down:

• Why Loren and not Lauren? My grandfather was named Oren. My aunt was named Loren after him. And then it was passed down to me. I love that connection, even if it means people assume it's a typo.

• McCauley? Spelled how? My mom found it in a distant relative’s obituary as his middle name—McCollie—and thought it was cool but decided to create her own spelling. So here I am, McCauley. And trust me, I’ve gotten every version imaginable (McAuley, Macaulay, McCawley, McColley, Mckauly, McKaulley, McCully—the list goes on).

• First name vs. middle name mix-up? My parents thought Loren McCauley Palmer sounded better than McCauley Loren Palmer, so they swapped the order. A simple decision that I agree with. But while I wouldn’t have it any other way, it wasn’t my choice. They always intended me to be McCauley.

• And then, the final twist—because both McCauley and Palmer are often last names instead of first names, people constantly assume my name is flipped. In my corporate job, where names were listed ‘last name, first name’, I often became Palmer.

I know, I know. You probably don’t care about my silly name—I’m sharing it because this is why I care so much about names.

Growing up painfully shy, I hated correcting people. I still do. Every first day of class, every application, every appointment involved mental preparation for this conversation. But I’ve come to realize something that changed my mindset entirely.

And that’s what this post is really about.

Why does it feel uncomfortable to correct people? Why do some of us let it slide? Should we speak up more? How important is it really?

I’ve realized that our names aren’t just labels; they reflect who we are. Letting people get it wrong—especially repeatedly—might have deeper consequences than we think.

Why we hesitate to correct people

I’ve noticed three main reasons why we hesitate:

1. We don’t want to seem rude or difficult. That’s my excuse, at least. But I don’t find it rude when someone corrects me—I’m usually relieved they did. Society has conditioned us to avoid even the smallest confrontations, as if asking for basic respect is a disruption.

2. We fall into the "it’s not a big deal" trap. We convince ourselves it’s easier to adjust than to ask others to try a little harder. But every time we let it slide, we surrender a small piece of our identity.

3. Power dynamics make it harder. If you finally land a meeting with your boss or professor, will you really use that time to correct them on your name? Probably not. But here’s the thing—most people want to get your name right. If they care, they’ll make the effort. Sometimes, they just need a little help.

Why correcting people matters

Here’s what shifted my perspective:

• Asserting your identity: Your name is more than just a label—it’s the beginning of your story, culture, and history. It deserves to be recognized and respected. When you avoid correcting others, it can feel like you are plucking your feathers off to avoid ruffling others.

• Setting a standard for respect: Letting people get your name wrong sends a subtle message that you aren’t worth remembering (even if that’s not your intention). It seems trivial, but small things add up. If you let people minimize the little things, they’ll also start minimizing the big ones.

• Preventing the mistake from spreading: If you don’t correct the boss, all your colleagues may eventually call you by the wrong name. The longer you wait, the harder it is to fix. Trust me, I’ve learned this the hard way. Nip it in the bud.

• Normalizing the effort for others: When you correct someone on your name, you’re not just advocating for yourself—you’re helping create a culture where names matter. This is especially important for folks with unique or culturally significant names. Many platforms these days have name pronunciation tools—they’re phenomenal for when you are unsure.

Think about how many beautifully complex words exist in every language—ones we take the time to learn and pronounce correctly. So why should real people’s names deserve any less effort?

Tips on correcting others without feeling awkward

1. Casual approach (my favorite): "Actually, it’s [correct pronunciation]. No worries, it happens a lot!” Light but firm.

2. Repetition trick: If they mispronounce your name (or someone else’s), say it correctly in conversation shortly after. This approach is subtle and indirect, but if they’re listening, it usually works.

3. Gentle reminder: "Just a quick reminder—it’s [your name]. I really appreciate you making the effort!" (With a smile.)

4. Throw them a bone: If you have a tricky name, give them an easy association… ”It rhymes with…” My go-to is "Yep, like the ‘Home Alone’ actor! But with two C’s and only one A.”

Most people aren’t intentionally getting your name wrong—they just need help getting it right. And when you correct them, you’re making it easier for both of you in the long run.

Own your name—because it’s yours

Names aren’t just words—they carry weight. They are a core part of our history, families, and sense of self. Getting them right shouldn’t be an afterthought but a given.

No one is perfect. Names are hard. But the next time someone gets your name wrong—or someone else’s—don’t shrink. Speak up. Help them out.

The people who matter will make the effort.

My name is McCauley. Your name is yours.

There will only ever be one you and one me.

Let’s make sure people know it.

McCauley Street in Chapel Hill, NC

Xoxo, McCauley