I'm Major Jackson and this is the slowdown.

I had a difficult time growing up with the name Major.

While Jackson is an unofficial black royal surname in America, my first name invites

all kinds of Tom Foulery.

I've heard all the jokes, you know all the puns.

Long before I read the book, one teacher teasingly mocked Major, Major, Major, Major,

the protagonist in Joseph Eller's Catch 22.

Another saying, ground control to Major Jackson, French joked, you're a major pain in a,

and on it went.

I did not begin to appreciate my name until I met the late writer, Kristen Hunter Latany,

who exclaimed, oh, a Major, your parents blessed you with a power name.

She explained to me that, in the absence of political agency and social standing, black

families ennobled their children with names such as Caesar, Rome, and Prince.

With the intention, they would grow into the strength of those titles.

I thought of a high school best friend, King Britt, now a legendary DJ, educator, and

record producer.

Today, I carry a great deal of pride in my name, several majors populate my family tree.

A census document dating back to the mid 1800s shows Major Gooch, father of Major Gooch,

Jr., the great grandfather whom I am directly named after.

He was the son of Charles Gooch, member of the 16th regiment, United States colored infantry,

who fought in the Battle of Nashville in 1864, only a handful of miles from where I now

live and write.

...