Why Always… Christopher
The Journey of the Name: Christopher
As you begin this journey through Always Christopher, Never Chris, I want to start with the story behind the name. It is more than a title; it is a reflection of how I have come to understand myself and how I choose to show up in the world.
Most people named Christopher eventually shorten it to Chris. I was no exception, at least when I was younger. My parents, family, and friends all called me Chris. It was casual, familiar, and easy.
However, my mom and a few other adults had a different system. They reserved “Christopher” for moments that required my full attention. Usually, that meant I was in trouble.
My mom was exceptionally skilled at using name variations to signal urgency. It started with “Chris!” If that did not work, she would escalate to “Christopher!” Then came “Christopher Allan!” And if I heard “Christopher Allan Bylone!” I knew I had about three seconds to get in front of her.
Now here is the twist. I come from a Catholic family, and for my confirmation, I chose the name Anthony in honor of Saint Anthony. (That story deserves its own chapter.) Consequently, when I was really in trouble, the full name would roll out: “Christopher Allan Anthony Bylone!”
Picture it: my mom standing firm, voice steady, eyes locked in, calling out every syllable with purpose. That name was not just a string of words. It was a signal. A summons. A moment of reckoning.
Over time, this naming system became more than just a disciplinary tool. It became part of my identity. Each version of my name carried a different weight, a different tone, a different layer of meaning. It taught me that names hold power; not just in how others use them, tough in how we choose to claim them.
Today, I embrace the full name: Christopher. Not just because it sounds more formal or complete; however, because it reflects the journey I have taken to understand who I am. It is a name that carries history, intention, and a sense of purpose. And yes, it still makes me pause when I hear it spoken with that familiar tone.
The Significance of the Full Name
To deepen the story, let us go back to the beginning: where the name Christopher first entered my life and how it was chosen with intention.
To understand how I came to adopt the name Christopher, we must go back to July 23, 1981 —the day I was born.
My mom wanted to name me after my dad, Allan. She imagined a legacy, a connection. However, my dad was not keen on the idea of having a junior. For his own reasons, he preferred something different. So, they compromised: I would be named Christopher.
In 1981, Christopher was the second most popular name for boys. Go figure.
Though the story did not end there.
My mom has always been a devoted fan of Winnie the Pooh, and she adored Christopher Robin. She dreamed of naming me Christopher Robin Bylone. It was whimsical, heartfelt, and deeply meaningful. However, she worried that “Robin” might invite bullying; maybe because it was seen as a more female-oriented name, being less common for boys at the time. I joke with her now: “Little did you know that it would not have stopped the bullying anyway.” (Another story for another chapter.)
With that, they landed on Christopher Allan Bylone. My middle name honors my dad, even if I do not carry it as my first name.
Growing up, everyone called me Chris. It felt normal, expected. However, because Christopher was such a popular name, I often found myself in classrooms with multiple Chrises. And for some reason, I was always the one who volunteered to go by Christopher. Maybe it was the uniqueness. Perhaps it was the rhythm of the name. Conceivably, it was something deeper I did not yet understand.
Over time, Christopher became the name I used in formal settings, at school, work, and introductions. Chris remained the shorthand in social circles. However, even then, something about the full name felt more aligned with who I was becoming.
It was not just about syllables or popularity. It was about identity. About choosing to show up fully. About honoring the name my parents gave me and the story behind it.
The Impact of Misgendering
As my voice and presence evolved, so did the assumptions people made about me. This next part of the story explores how misgendering shaped my identity and led to intentional choices.
When I was young, my voice was high-pitched; so much so that in eighth grade, I was still singing soprano. I was not even a tenor yet. In choir, I was placed in the soprano section, which led to some interesting dynamics. (Again, another story for another chapter.) I could sing Christine Daaé’s part from The Phantom of the Opera with clarity and ease. Some of the girls were not thrilled about that. And honestly? I kind of loved it.
That moment says a lot about who I am. I have never been one to fit neatly into expectations, especially those tied to identity. I break molds. I challenge assumptions. I show up as myself, even when it surprises people.
However, this came with a double-edged sword.
Back in the days before cell phones, people had to call a landline to reach you. (Yes, I am old! I entered the world before cell phones.) If my parents were not home, I would answer and take a message. The problem? I was forgetful. Still am. My memory is basically Dory-level. So, when people followed up and asked, “Did you get my message?” my parents would say, “No.” And the caller would respond, “Well, we told your daughter.” To which my parents would reply, “You were not speaking with our daughter: you were speaking with our son.”
This happened often. My voice did not match people’s expectations, and they made assumptions. And those assumptions did not stop in childhood. Even as I entered adulthood and the professional world (this was a world before Zoom Calls), people continued to misgender me based on my voice. They could not see me, so they relied on vocal cues, and those cues did not align with their assumptions about gender.
I have always had a voice that some describe as effeminate or expressive. I joke that if you cannot tell I am a gay man within the first five minutes of talking to me, you probably do not need to know. (Another story for another chapter.)
Eventually, I realized I needed a way to assert my identity more clearly. That is when I began using Christopher intentionally and consistently. It helped. People associated the name with a male identity, and it reduced the frequency of misgendering. I started answering the phone with, “Hello, this is Christopher.” I signed all my emails as Christopher. I asked people to refer to me as: Christopher.
Even in social settings, I now use Christopher. Though my family and a few close friends still call me Chris, it is part of our shared history and how they get my attention. It is a name layered with meaning.
Professional Identity and Branding
The personal journey of naming naturally extended into my professional life. What began as a correction became a brand; one that reflects authenticity, leadership, and clarity.
Anyway, why am I telling this story, about why Christopher is also a brand?
Because it is not just personal. It is professional. And it is strategic.
I owe a big thank you to my friend John Ferguson, former Chief Human Resources Officer at NASCAR. In the summer of 2024, we participated in a panel discussion at an HR conference, alongside senior HR executives. During the Q&A, someone asked a question and addressed it to “Chris.”
When I responded, I took the opportunity to clarify, not just for that person; however, for the room.
“I would love to answer your question,” I said, “though first, I would like to remind everyone that my name is Christopher, not Chris.”
The room responded with applause and laughter. People came up to me afterward, saying how powerful and brave it was to assert my name in that moment. I felt proud. Seen. Affirmed.
Though the fundamental shift came months later, in a conversation with John, he asked me, “How did you get to the place of wanting to be called Christopher?”
I shared the story of how I was misgendered as a child because of my voice, how I wanted a way to signal my identity clearly from the start. What surprised me was that John, someone I have had countless deep conversations with, was now asking this. So, I asked, “Why are you bringing this up?”
His response changed everything.
He said, “When you were on that stage, you had power. The room was full of senior executives, so the dynamic was relatively balanced. However, one day, you will be speaking to an audience of professionals at various levels. And a junior professional might call you Chris. And in that moment, you will need a way to assert your name that is clear, confident, and kind.”
He continued, “You want to stand up for yourself, yes. However, you also want to make sure people feel valued, not embarrassed. You need a way to communicate your identity that invites understanding, not defensiveness.”
Then he said something that stuck: “You have already got it. You say, ‘Never, Chris.’ That is your brand.”
I laughed. “You are right.”
He said, “Make it your calling card. Put it on mugs. T-shirts. Swag. Own it.”
Accordingly, I did what any branding-minded person would do: I went to GoDaddy. I searched for neverchris.com. It was taken. Still working on that. Though neverchris.org, .net, .co, .biz? All available. I bought them.
Then I paused. I am not a negative person. I do not lead with “never.” I lead with “always!”
Thus, I searched again. alwayschristopher.com was available. So were .org, .net, .co, .biz. I bought them all. And yes—I also bought alwayschristopherneverchris.com and all the (dots).
John’s final advice was this: “Put it out there. Let people see it. Let them learn it without needing a conversation.”
Well, I did. If you visit my LinkedIn profile, you will see it in my headline: #AlwaysChristopher #NeverChris.
It is more than a hashtag. It is a declaration. A brand. A boundary. A welcome.
And it is how I arrived at the title of this book.
I wanted to introduce myself to the world, not just through posts, podcasts, or workshops; however, through something lasting. Something intentional. Something that reflects who I am.
Consequently, I called it: Always Christopher, Never Chris.
Reflection
As you have read through this chapter, you have seen how something as seemingly simple as a name can carry layers of meaning, memory, and identity. For me, choosing to go by Christopher was not just about formality; it was about clarity, authenticity, and reclaiming a part of myself that had always been there, waiting to be honored.
Now, I invite you to reflect on your own story. What name, or part of your identity, have you reclaimed or redefined? How has it shaped how you show up in your life or work?
Think about the moments when you have had to correct someone, not out of confrontation, but out of self-respect. What did that feel like? What did it teach you about your values, your boundaries, or your voice?
Consider the labels you have outgrown, the nicknames you have shed, or the titles you have embraced. What do they say about your journey? What do they say about who you are becoming or have become?
This book is a living story, and so is your life. I hope this chapter encourages you to pause and ask: “What parts of my identity deserve more space, more voice, more visibility?”
And if you are still figuring that out: that’s okay. So am I. That is the beauty of becoming. We do not arrive; we evolve.
Here is your invitation: Reflect. Reclaim. Redefine. And above all, show up as your bold, authentic self, whatever that looks like today, tomorrow, and always.