The Virginian-Pilot
                             THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT 
              Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: Wednesday, September 6, 1995           TAG: 9509070643
SECTION: DAILY BREAK              PAGE: E1   EDITION: FINAL 
SOURCE: BY DENISE WATSON, STAFF WRITER 
                                             LENGTH: Long  :  124 lines

AFROCENTRICITY NAMEDROPPING

ONCE UPON A TIME, Jaha Bennett liked her given name, Jacqueline. It had a certain panache, an air of romance to it. When she pronounces the name today, heavily Frenching the ``Jacques,'' it still reminds her of a mushy foreign film she saw as a kid.

But sometime during college, the name lost its je ne sais quoi.

``I went to a historically black college and learned more about my culture,'' says Jaha, who doesn't use her last name. ``A French name just didn't jibe with my African-American self.''

So Jaha, now a 26-year-old Portsmouth resident, chose a Swahili name meaning ``dignity.''

`` `Jaha' spoke more to me and what I felt about myself. Who I am. As you get older, it's not as important to be pretty, but you always want dignity.''

What's in a name? Plenty. It's why many African Americans have dropped their European-derived names to find something more relevant to themselves and their children.

The pattern began in the '60s when the civil rights and black nationalist movements transformed Cassius Clay to Muhammad Ali and poet LeRoi Jones to Amiri Baraka.

In the late '70s, author Alex Haley took millions on a journey to find his African roots in a best-selling novel and 1977 movie; many were inspired when Haley's television ancestor raised his infant son to the sky and proudly pronounced his name, ``Kunta Kinte.''

``There has been a resurgence in Afrocentricity and African-centeredness. The reason why people are renouncing their European. . . names is to regain their historical identity,'' says Kwame Nantambre, an associate professor in the Department of Pan-African Studies at Kent State University in Ohio.

``We are capturing the African in us.''

This quest for identity seems a unique aspect of the African-American experience.

``You don't find it among African-descended people in Europe. You don't find them changing their names,'' says Aisha Blackshire-Belay, an associate professor in African-American studies at Temple University in Philadelphia.

``No one can say that it was passed on to us by anyone; it was not. We created it ourselves.''

Nantambre says this name-changing goes beyond a need for connectedness; it will play a critical role in the future of black Americans.

``To me, this is the only way to save the next generation. By giving them the African names we as teachers, as parents, can instill the African culture, values,'' Nantambre said.

``Some people go to books to find African names. . . .Some make up names that sound African. There's nothing wrong with that. The point is imprinting on that child's spirituality, that child's African-ness.''

Shawn Eure of Chesapeake began mulling over the names Jamile and Johnay early in her pregnancy, months before her first child was due in the summer of 1991. An African name, she hoped, would be her daughter's first cultural building blocks.

By that spring, the names had become even more significant.

``I went into premature labor 2 1/2 months early and she was born with hydrocephalus (fluid on the brain). She almost died,'' Eure says.

`` `Jamile' is `beautiful' in Somali and Swahili culture,'' she says. ``Johnay'' is a derivative of the Hebrew word ``johanan,'' which means ``gift of God.''

Says Eure, ``After the delivery, she had to go under a lot of surgery and her name meant so much more and the name just stuck with me. She was truly a beautiful gift from God.''

Eure is now seven months pregnant and believes her next child is a sign of good things to come in her life. The child's name will be ``Imani Ishara,'' which means ``faith'' and ``sign or signal'' in Swahili.

``People ask me why I didn't give them simpler names, but I knew what I wanted for them. Jamile can tell you what her name means. She knows that it's African. She knows what the baby's name is going to be and what it means,'' Eure says.

``You get negative and positive responses, but as long as I know who I am, that's all that matters. So many of us are running from who we are. A lot are running away from things that tie us to the motherland.''

Eure will soon change her own name but is taking the time to find one that speaks to her goals and life experiences, as in African tradition.

In African cultures, parents pick names that pay homage to ancestors or spirits, signify the status of the family or the day the child is born.

Professor Nantambre's names are popular throughout Africa. Kwame means ``to be born on a Saturday,'' and Nantambre translates as ``a man of destiny.''

``So now I am an African, born on a Saturday, a man with a destiny to re-educate my people,'' Nantambre says.

``This name-changing is not a random exercise. It is not something to make African people feel good. . . . This is about empowerment and African consciousness. You select a name that reflects the life you want for your child.''

Mananktiab Bragg hopes her daughter will grow into a great and wise soul. So Bragg chose an ancient Egyptian name, ``Yochawnaw,'' which means ``wise and great.''

``I didn't want her reared as I was, kind of detached from our lineage with people on the continent,'' says the Chesapeake resident. She changed her own name from ``Marguerite'' to an Egyptian name that means, ``one who is joyous and stable.''

``I wanted to give her a start. A name is more than something to call someone. When someone calls my name it brings me into focus to what I am supposed to be doing. You don't pick a name just because it sounds good.''

Jaha says that changing her name has been more fulfilling than than she originally imagined. She's often stopped and asked about her name, which she is more than happy to talk about.

When she tells people ``I'm Jaha,'' she is saying, ``I am dignity,'' and that has more than a little panache.

``It makes you feel so whole and complete.'' ILLUSTRATION: Graphics

KEN WRIGHT/Staff

[For complete graphic, please see microfilm]

PRONUNCIATIONS Jaha - (JAH-hah)

Kwame - (kwah-MEH or kwah-MEE)

Aisha - (ah-EE-shah, AH-ee-shuh)

Jamile - (jah-MEEL)

Johnay - (JAH-nay)

Imani - (ee-MAHN-ee)

Ishara - (ee-SHAH-rah)

Mananktiab - (mehn-ANKH-tee-ab)

KEYWORDS: AFRICAN AMERICAN NAMES by CNB