The Power of a Name
- Harmony Farm Sanctuary
- 5 days ago
- 3 min read
This morning, Missy—one of our incredible volunteers—sent me an article about the importance of calling someone by their name.
At the farm, we give a name to every single being who comes here.
Because each of them is someone.
They are not “it". They are not “that". They are not “one of those.”
They are a someone with a name.
Over time, I’ve learned something simple but profound: when we know someone’s name, our perception changes. The human mind assigns value when it recognizes individuality. A name creates connection. It shifts something in us.
And I’ve seen this play out in the smallest, most unexpected way.
Years ago, there was a tiny house spider who lived in my bathroom. He would come out of a little hole in the wall and never travel very far. One day, for no particular reason, I named him Bob.
The moment I named him, everything changed.
I didn’t see “a spider” anymore. I saw Bob. A small being sharing space with me. I would say hello to him. I would leave tiny drops of water nearby. I wanted him to live.
There is no world in which I would have harmed him.
When he eventually died, I gently took him outside and placed him in the dirt. He wasn’t just a bug. He was a being who had shared the earth with me for a season.
Now, when I find a house spider, I don’t kill it. I move it into a plant so it can be healthy. They intend no harm. They’re simply living.
That is the power of a name.
Without names, it’s easy to create “us and them". Those people. Those animals. Those pit bulls.
Pit bulls are a perfect example. Over the decades, there is always a dog breed that becomes the villain—Dobermans, German Shepherds, now pit bulls. There is always a group that gets demonized. And often, they are spoken about collectively, never individually. No names. Just labels.
The same thing happens with people. “The homeless population.” “Those immigrants.” “That group.”
When we remove names, we remove individuality. And when we remove individuality, we remove empathy.
At the farm, every resident has a name because they are individuals with unique personalities, preferences, and stories. Most people in our culture have never spent time with farmed animals. At the same time, we live in a world where factory farming operates largely unseen. Millions of animals are harmed and killed every single day. I don’t use those words lightly—that is the reality.
And when we talk about “millions", it becomes abstract. It becomes numbers. Statistics.
But when you think about harming an animal with a name—an animal you know—you feel it differently.
We would never tolerate someone torturing a dog named Charlie. Or neglecting a cat named Luna. We spend billions of dollars every year protecting dogs and cats because they have names, homes, and relationships with us.
Yet there is no meaningful difference between the animals in factory farms and the animals in our homes. They are all sentient. They all feel pain. They all have preferences. They all experience fear and comfort.
The difference is that some have names—and some do not.
Calling someone by their name changes the story.
It awakens something in us. It softens us. It invites our humanity forward. Whether it’s the man on the street corner, the stray animal, or the cow in a factory farm—when we see a being as an individual instead of a category, everything shifts.
A name restores dignity. A name restores individuality. A name restores connection.
And connection changes behavior.
Here at the farm, we will continue to name every single resident. Because they matter. Because they are someone.
And remembering that—even with a tiny spider named Bob—might just change us.
Kelly
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