Wait, how do you spell your name again?
My name has been hard for some people to spell, but also hard for them to forget. Its unusualness has helped open doors and build connections.
Welcome back to Don’t Forget My Voice, a newsletter to help you navigate journalism’s chaotic and toxic maze. I’m Mc Nelly Torres, a longtime investigative journalist, editor, trainer and mentor.
As a child growing up in Puerto Rico, I hated my first name, Mc Nelly.
At the time, my full name was Mc Nelly Colón Laboy. I couldn’t wait to grow up and change my name after I turned 18.
I felt different and weird as a student in school with a name that didn’t sound Spanish like Carmen, Maria, Rosa, or Milagros. In elementary school, boys mocked my name, singing the “Old McDonald” song, you know, the one about the farm.
Beyond juvenile gibes, my name was also trouble because no one could spell it. In the third grade, I was so fed up with my teacher that I brought my birth certificate to school one day to show her that she was misspelling my name.
Journalists who claimed to be my friends misspelled my name all the time.
Imagine that your name could be misspelled in so many different ways: Macnelly, MacNellie, McNally, McNeely and the one I detest the most is Mcnellie and Mcnelly.
I specifically hate with passion when I receive an email using Mc as my only name. I never bother to respond.
The story behind my name is simple. I’m not Irish but my mother spent several years in New York when she was a teen and attended high school there. She had an Irish teacher and learned that Mc means daughter of or son of.
My mother’s name is Nelly and thus, I’m Nelly’s daughter.
Although my name confounded people over the years, it has also sometimes been a great asset because it’s unusual and memorable. I’ve never been in a newsroom with another Mc Nelly.
In fall 1996, when I was a college senior at the University of Southern Colorado, I was applying for jobs, replying to ads in Editor & Publisher magazine. Those were the days when you would send your cover letter, résumé and photocopied samples of your work via snail mail.
Steve Martaindale, the managing editor at the Herald Democrat in Sherman, Texas, telephoned me. “I was looking at résumés when I saw your name,” he said. “I read it Mc Nelly Torres and I thought, ‘This is a writer’s name!’”
I began my career there in 1997.
My name also helped me reconnect to old friends. During my time at the San Antonio Express-News, I came to work one morning to find an odd voice message: Someone had read a front-page story I wrote and wondered if I was the same Mc Nelly Torres who was a University of Southern Colorado journalism student and whose daughter was friends with his daughter at the campus day care.
Matt Flores, a reporter in the education team with me at the time, knew it had to be me.
“How many Mc Nelly Torres do we have in the U.S. who are journalists?” he said.
We could have researched it, but didn’t need to. We laughed. He had a point.
Sometimes, as in grade school, my name has yielded less pleasant correspondence.
When I was at The Lawton Constitution, I used to get mail from strangers calling me a sinner. They assumed that I was white because my first name is Mc Nelly and married to a Hispanic. A few letters I received during my first year there told me the Bible says interracial marriage is a sin. They didn’t know if I was married, or what my spouse looked like or what his ethnicity was.
People who meet me during my reporting are likely to remember my name, especially if I have a business card handy.
We all have something we bring into our jobs that make us different and work to our advantage as we work around newsrooms, write stories and interact with colleagues. Matthew Crowley, the onetime PolitiFact copy chief who has helped edit this column, tells me some people have associated his name with the similar-named “Downton Abbey” character. Matthew tells me he says, “No, that guy is Crawley with an a, not an o, and he’s way more famous.”
My name has opened doors for me in many ways: It has become an icebreaker at conferences and parties when people ask: “How did you get your name?” And, as I said before, it helped launch my career.
But if my name was a spark, my personality and background were the fire that allowed me to create powerful networks in and outside of journalism and create memorable, important journalism.
Whatever your name is, your life experiences are your superpower, use them to build your network and find interesting stories. Use them to produce journalism and support others.
As I grew older, moved around the world, experienced new cultures and met new people, I changed my mind about changing my name.
I love that it is different and interesting. I have come to appreciate how it sounds when people call my name.
Remember, it’s Mc Nelly, two words. Spell it right and I’ll remember you.
Follow Mc Nelly on Bluesky, Threads, LinkedIn, X, Substack Notes and be part of the community I’m building online. Drop me a note if you want to provide feedback, would like me to discuss a specific subject, collaborate or just to say hello at mcnellytorres@substack.com. Join our chat room here.
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This resonates with me. My name is not one you see every day and I take its spelling and capitalization very seriously. When you see my full name, there's no mistaking me for anyone else. I was told all my life it should be in lights or in print. Part of what drew me to newsletter was your name, actually. Thank you for sharing this beautiful story.
- LaDonna
Interesting article about your name. My great grandmother was Irish. I never knew that about Mc. Thanks for sharing.