My name is Chad. Yes, I’m white, work an office job, and sometimes I wear a vest.

My name is Chad. I’ve learned to love that, but probably not for the reasons you might guess.

There are many things that the name conjures. It’s been a cultural touchstone all my life. When I was young, Chad was the spoiled rich kid with a popped collar, whining to his sister Buffy. Or, sometimes the beach blond surfer, living for gnarly waves. For a while in high school, it was the symbol of an era-defining election issue. Remember hanging and pregnant chads? I got a couple of easy Halloween costumes out of that.

Nowadays, it’s hard to keep track of the rotating cast of stereotypes for which “Chad” has become the default name. There’s loud “Frat Chad,” entitled and way too into drinking. Or, the eternally Patagonia vest-clad “Tech Chad” oozing unearned confidence and cluelessness in equal measure. Maybe worst of the bunch, in the moldy basements of the internet, is “Alpha Chad,” the alpha male poster boy who lacks depth or intellect but who is still inexplicably admired.

It doesn’t help that I look the part

Let me tell you, doomscrolling takes on an entirely different meaning when your name is shorthand for all the internet’s boogeymen. It doesn’t help that I kind of look the part. I’m a white guy who works a desk job. I had a vest once, but I looked weird in it. And in college, I used a bookshelf to display empty beer bottles. That’s where the similarities end, though.

Still, I worry about it, because my name is Chad and sometimes I look like what people think that means — even if I’m not.

That guarantees a daily dose of perspective, and I’m determined to use it well. It’s a reminder not to take myself too seriously. I like that part. Besides, as an introvert who hates small talk, the name is a built-in icebreaker, a quick way to move past superficial and into something more meaningful. I’ve learned a little self deprecating humor is the quickest way to make friends. Self-awareness is the anti-Chad; ultimately, none of this is that serious anyway. People aren’t that attached to hating the name or me for having it.

The only time I truly worry about my name is in professional settings. It’s hard not to picture a hiring manager, potential client, or editor seeing my name and shaking their head. So, I hedge from time to time, using my initials “CW” in place of Chad. I don’t want something so trivial to be the difference between success and failure. I feel I owe it to myself to let the work speak for me, not the name.

For better or worse, it’s my name

Even then, I wouldn’t change it.

I know some things about the name Chad that others don’t. Like, when I hear it spoken by my wife, who doesn’t say it often, I can’t help but feel a small flutter in my chest. Or, when I think of my childhood best friend, whom I haven’t spoken to in years, I remember the way our names were always said in a pair: Cam and Chad, and I smile because there are lots of stories caught in between the utterance of those names together.

For better or worse, Chad is my name, and I still long to hear it said again in the voice of people who are no longer here and whom I miss dearly. I can remember writing it on my first love note, signed slow and scared. And one day it may be the lone signifier of having been here at all, written on some family tree — name, place, and dates.

All this to say, I’m Chad. No, it’s not the one you’re considering, but it’s a pleasure to meet you.

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