In high school, there were very few books I enjoyed reading front to back. It was almost a foregone conclusion that at some point the novel assigned to my classmates and I would start to drag. One of the only exceptions to this pattern was Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon. 

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the plot of Song of Solomon that kept me engaged, but rather, the characters. Each carried their own complex histories, ideologies, and demeanors, and seeing them interact with one another allowed the entirety of this book to fly by. 

One particularly interesting thing about this Toni Morrison classic is the names of these characters. They aren’t names you’d find on a “Top 100 Baby Names of 2022” list, but the layers of meaning infused within these monikers is what I’d love to discuss in this week’s blog post. 

Milkman

The main protagonist of Song of Solomon is a young man who goes by Milkman. The story behind his name is deeply upsetting, but fascinating all the same, as it isn’t Milkman, nor his family, nor his friends that give him this nickname. Instead, it is a random passerby who witnessed Milkman (as an older child) breastfeeding from his mother that invented the nickname by happenstance. How unfortunate then, that the name stuck, as in effect, Milkman’s childhood trauma is all encapsulated in a quippy, two-syllable phrase; it’s simultaneously terrible and fascinating. 

Furthermore, this occurrence had the power to reshape Milkman’s entire identity. As Milkman grows to understand the origins of his hame, he becomes more uncomfortable with his mother’s attachment to him, and pushes his family away. In the community, he experiences humiliation as he realizes the significance of his name. It is ultimately this growing divide between Milkman and his community, family, and friends, that then drives the plot of Song of Solomon forward. 

Not Doctor Street

It’s also relevant to note that area that Milkman leaves is referred to as “Not Doctor Street.” This too, is another example of a name created and used by the community, as it is a colloquial term used by only the Black community. The street’s official name is “Main Avenue,” but the people living there renamed it because there was once a Black doctor, Milkman’s grandfather, Dr. Foster, that used to practice medicine in the area. He was one of the most affluent and influential figures within the neighborhood. Mind you, the local, general hospital at the time refused to admit Black patients. Much of the community had no one else but Dr. Foster to turn to when in need of health services. This led to the general “Mercy Hospital” being called “No Mercy Hospital.” 

If by this point you think you’re picking up on a trend: you are. In the naming of “Not Doctor Street,” and “No Mercy Hospital,” and even “Milkman,” the community takes control back by naming the world around them. There is a type of empowerment found in the almost exclusive language of the Black community on Not Doctor Street, and their vernacular allows them to possess something that cannot be taken away from them. Moreover, the names they give these landmarks cannot be denied (like admission to a whites only hospital, for instance). 

In my next blog post, I plan to discuss how other names found in Song of Solomon communicate a drastically different message from those community-claimed terms seen in this post, names that actually disempower and objectify their recipients. This will prove to further emphasize the immense power that Toni Morrison gives something as mundane as a name.