Many writers I’ve admired have used pseudonyms. From authors I enjoyed in my youth (Lewis Caroll, Mark Twain, Dr. Seuss) to social commentators like Theodore Dalrymple and, most relevantly, George Orwell.
One of my favorite theologians and philosophers, Soren Kierkegaard, published works under a wide variety of personas – each with different viewpoints – and often had them argue with one-another.
Separately, in the religious sphere, there is a tradition of adherents changing their names to mark conversion to a new faith and/or the adoption of a new lifestyle, role and purpose.
Saul of Tarsus became St. Paul after converting from a persecutor of the early Christian church into one of its core leaders. Simon wad christened ‘Peter’ (by Christ himself) and was henceforth known by that name. Following St. Peter’s model, Catholic popes generally take on new names when they step into the role of Peter’s successor as ‘vicar of Christ.’
In literature, Alonzo Quixano took on a new name (Don Quixote) before setting out to redeem the world.
Opposite these Catholic precedents, I took on a new name after losing my faith and purpose.
In the period when I had abandoned my initial calling and was struggling to figure out what else to do with my life, I worked a bunch of odd-jobs, took classes off-and-on at community college and performed in a rock band. However, I primarily identified as a poet (though I also dabbled in prose).
As a poet, I’d adopted the nom de plume Moses Black III (with the first “black Moses” in this lineage being St. Moses the Black and the second being Harriet Tubman; Isaac Hayes also famously described himself as the Black Moses for a while, but this was not relevant for my calculations). At the time of my conversion to Islam, most people had been referring to me as “Moses” for years – from my community college teachers and classmates to my friends and lovers, from co-workers to customers, and beyond.
In the Islamic tradition, of course, it is also common for converts to adopt a new name. Most relevant to me was Muhammad Asad, born Leopold Weiss, who wrote, to my mind, the best English-language translation and exegesis of the Qur’an to date (for the reference, his son is a fantastic scholar as well).
I decided to take on a new name after converting to Islam too. Drawing from the label most contemporary associates already knew me by, I ultimately settled on Musa al-Gharbi, which translates (from Arabic) into “Moses of the West” or “Moses the Westerner” — nodding to my origins as an American and Arizona native.
I’ve been Musa al-Gharbi ever since. Incidentally, this is the only name I’ve ever published under (although, at the time I adopted this label, I could not have anticipated that I would be so widely published; this did not seem to be a life path open to someone like me… but finding faith and starting a family really changed the equation). We’re fast approaching a time when Musa al-Gharbi will be the name I’ve gone by for the longest stretch of my life. God willing, this will be the name I die under as well… but, hopefully, not too soon!