Say My Name!

There’s something powerful about a name.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve wrestled with how people respond to mine: Tilantine. Too often, it gets mispronounced, shortened, or brushed aside as “too difficult.” People ask if I have a nickname, and for years, I gave in.

I would respond with, “Just call me T, or Dr. T.”

It was easier—for them.

But deep down, I knew I was diminishing a part of myself to make others more comfortable.

The Weight of a Name

Names are more than labels. They carry meaning, history, and identity. In the Bible, names were never random. They pointed to destiny, legacy, and God’s promises across generations. Entire chapters are filled with genealogies, not as filler, but as lineage. Each name marked a story, a covenant, and a promise.

When Abram became Abraham (Genesis 17:5), it reflected his calling as the father of many nations.

When Jacob was renamed Israel (Genesis 32:28), it marked a transformation in his identity and destiny.

Isaiah 43:1 reminds us that God says, “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.”

If those names mattered to God, then mine matters, too. And so does yours.

My Mother’s Imagination

The truth is, my name wasn’t passed down through tradition or chosen from a list—it was created. My mother made it up, and she gave it meaning. In her own words:

“I made it up. It means Indian Princess. I read a book and a girl’s name was Elantine. I thought of Aunt Tine. I figured that was ok since that’s what they used to do back in the day—make the names up and give them a meaning. Well, you are of Indian (Native American) heritage and you were my princess. And you were named partly from your great aunt, Big Ma’s sister, Aunt Tine. She was so nice. I had a plan to write a book about it, but that got pushed back. I was always so busy. I don’t know if you remember any of the stories I used to tell you all. If you didn’t see me reading a book, that’s where the stories came from—out of my imagination. There you have it.”

Her words remind me that my name carries not just sound and syllables, but imagination, heritage, family, and love.

The Turning Point

Recently, during my time at the John Maxwell Conference (IMC), I made a decision. I realized that by shortening my name, I wasn’t just making life easier for others—I was silencing a part of who I am.

If I am being completely transparent, this wasn’t just about my name. For years, I had trained myself to shrink in ways that seemed harmless at the time. I softened my voice so I wouldn’t be labeled “too strong.” I accepted interruptions in meetings because I didn’t want to be seen as “too aggressive.” I let my accomplishments speak quietly in the background rather than owning them out loud because I didn’t want to make others uncomfortable.

This tendency isn’t unique to me. So many women, especially in professional spaces, have been conditioned to edit themselves for the sake of belonging. We change our tone so we don’t sound “emotional.” We shorten our names so they’re easier on someone else’s tongue. We downplay our ideas so we won’t be called “intimidating.” Without even realizing it, we make ourselves smaller, thinking it will open doors. Yet in reality it closes the door on the fullness of who we are.

But here’s what I’ve learned: diminishing yourself does not serve you and it does not serve the world. Playing small never honors the gift God placed inside of you. It certainly doesn’t prepare the next generation of women who are watching us to step boldly into their own power.

That’s when I drew a line. No more settling for “T.” No more shrinking into what feels convenient. As Matthew 5:15 reminds us: “Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.”

I refuse to hide my light—or my name—any longer.

My name is Tilantine.

Why This Matters

I share this not just for me, but for anyone who has ever felt the pressure to make themselves smaller in order to be accepted. Maybe for you it isn’t your name. Maybe it’s your voice, your background, your style, or your ideas.

But here is the truth: the world doesn’t need a watered-down version of you. It needs the whole you.

When we stand in our full identity, we give others permission to do the same.

Say My Name

So, from this point forward, I’m reclaiming the fullness of my identity. When you say my name, you honor not just me, but the journey, faith, and purpose God has woven into me.

My name is Tilantine.

And I will no longer diminish myself for your convenience.

(Click the linked name above to hear the correct pronunciation)