Changing names is a thing I do

And I feel it's time for another change

The internet runs on an interesting mixture of transparency and secrecy. Some of us tell all, and others build identities behind which to hide. Some of us do a little of both.
- Teo Bishop

When I was born in May of 1979, my parents gave me the name, Matthew Burton Morris.

The internet was 4 years away from its own birthday, so names were still just names then, not web domains or brand identities.

In 1992, at age 11, I took the professional stage name, Matt Morris. “Matt” was the name embroidered onto the left breast of my Mickey Mouse Club jacket. Over the next twenty years, I invested extraordinary amounts of time and money (mine and other people’s) trying to build this name into something sturdy enough to support the life of me and my family.

In my late-20’s, I created the pen name, Teo Bishop, and began writing the blog, Bishop in the Grove. I spent three years exploring Neopaganism under this name, fostering community and establishing a sense of identity as a Pagan, and I did all of this while also promoting my work as Matt Morris. Eventually, the pen name became my legal name. Matt Morris was just a series of handles and URL’s.

It was a lot to juggle, and not the most sustainable way of being. When I finally broke the news to my readership that Teo Bishop and Matt Morris were the same person, people flipped out.

Then, I had a God-experience which shattered everything. My sense of religious identity shifted, and I found myself a Christian again. People really flipped out, especially the Pagans. The NY Times took note (which I still can’t believe), and Teo Bishop would be the chosen name that went down in the newspaper of record.

The attention thrust me into the spotlight as a famous religious person, which is a really uncomfortable identity to occupy. I withdrew, turning down interviews from conservative Christian outlets that wanted to claim me as their own, and I immersed myself in the community of St. David of Wales Episcopal Church in Portland, Oregon. I needed space to reorient myself and figure out who I was and what I wanted to be.

What I wanted to be called.

I decided to change my name again. I let go of Teo Bishop and reclaimed the name of my birth. But I freed myself of Burton, a family name I never really liked, and, inspired by my community and newfound sense of faith, I took David as my middle name. I asked church folk to begin calling me Matthew David, and they did.

When I was ordained a priest in 2020, as well as when I was released from the priesthood just a few days ago, Matthew David Morris was the name used to identify me and my ever-fluctuating relationship with the church.

Now, I go by Matthew, mostly. My family still calls me Matt, as do many people following me online. My friends and acquaintances from the church continue to call me Matthew David.

No one calls me Teo anymore.

I’ve had a lot of names in my 44 years, and I’m coming to terms with this part of my story.

Changing names is a thing I do.

I think it may even be an important facet of my artistic process.

Photo by Utopia By Cho on Unsplash

I don’t believe that changing my name ever changed who I am at my core. I share Nadia’s perspective about this, which she wrote about in her post, 1% less asshole. She said,

"…I DO believe in human transformation, I just believe it is not limitless in ways that the words “achieving enlightenment” and “progressive sanctification” seem to imply (no disrespect intended). I have seen people change, just not in a way that makes them not be them anymore.” (emphasis added)

No amount of name changes will fundamentally change who I am. But the act of naming and renaming has power in it, and a lot of queer folk understand that claiming this power can be an important tool for our survival. Sometimes we have to generate power through creative acts of becoming in order to move beyond the precarity and uncertainty of our location in the world toward something more generative and life-giving.

I’m experiencing another moment of transition, which I wrote about in Coming Out of the Priesthood, and I feel the need for another change. But this time, I’m not looking to change the name I go by. Rather, I’m changing the name of this Substack.

Heartsong is changing into A Queer Imagination.

These three words speak to the spirit of what I’m chasing after right now.

The themes which inspired the name Heartsong – creativity, belief, practice, belonging, inquiry, and a deep engagement with meaningful ideas – are still as important to me as they were before. I’m just coming at them through a slightly different lens.

A queerly imaginative one.

I hope you’ll stay with me on this journey. I’m not exactly sure where it will lead, but I think we’re about to go somewhere worthy of a new name.

Yours in freedom,
Matt…Matthew David…Teo…

Me