Hello, beloved audience members. Please. Come in. Sit down.
It’s time I confronted a very serious matter. A persistent, mocking question that snaps at my heels, haunts my every waking move, and which has done so day and night for the past three years. I have tried to address it before, and I have failed.
I cannot sleep. I cannot eat. I must speak out, or fall silent for ever.
'Jon would know the real answer', as B. put it. Well, let this be my real answer.
*the lights dim as a slide projection screen descends very slowly from the ceiling*
Here in England, where I unfortunately reside, Richard has been an extremely commonplace name for the vast majority of our recorded history - remaining in the ten most popular names right up until the 1990s, if the Office for National Statistics is to be believed.
Like 'Henry', it retains many deeply-embedded positive associations around leadership, heroism, empire, and power - most notably in regards to Richard the Lionheart, still a fondly-remembered king in this country despite his costly and ultimately inconclusive adventurism upon the Third Crusade, acts of brutality against prisoners and civilians in the Middle East and France alike, the outbreaks of anti-semitic violence that occurred during his reign, and his particularly parasitic absentee rule. (For this legacy we can perhaps partly blame the early modern ballads which decided he was Robin Hood's buddy who rides in at the end to dole out pardons and restore the natural order of things.)
More subversively, the name might remind us of Richard III in Shakespeare's infamous portrayal, another scheming soliloquiser who finds his performance coming to pieces in moments of stress.
With these uneasy regal connotations in mind (coming alongside Charles and Edward) it felt to me - with less than a moment's thought behind it - like a fitting chosen first name for Faulkner, and a way of thematically matching his brothers.
I have since understood to my lasting regret that the name provokes a particular reaction amongst some of our audience members. A kind of mirth, if you will; even an amazement that Faulkner should select such a name.
I still do not fully understand whether the name is genuinely such a rarity in the modern-day USA where much of our audience resides and thus provokes a kind of parochial ridicule, or if the joke is simply that Faulkner, as a trans man, has chosen a name which features ‘Dick’ as one of its several possible diminutives.
While the use of this nickname dates back to the 12th or 13th century, ‘Rich’ would probably be a much more common shortening here in the modern-day UK.
We did not have such prominent 20th/21st century public figures as Tricky Dick, Dick van Dyke, or Dick Cheney, and as such these examples did not immediately occur to me as red flags when I thoughtlessly selected the popular, apparently uncontroversial, and thematically-rich (ha, ha, ha) name 'Richard'.*
I trust that I have now explained myself fully and laid this matter to rest.
Good day to you all. Gods bless.
*We did have beloved children's author Dick King-Smith, I guess? It's a mixed bag of dicks.
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