The Nightclub, the Name, and the Lesson That Changed Everything

When someone calls your name, what is awakened?

In this episode, I share two stories—one from a nightclub in my twenties and another from a heated professional moment—that taught me the unexpected power of names and titles. Beyond labels or status, the names we carry tether us back to integrity, responsibility, and purpose.

We live in a culture that says, “just be yourself.” But often, that phrase masks survival mode, compromise, or going along to get along. What I’ve learned is that integrity—and the vision of who you’re becoming—matters more than appearances.

This conversation will invite you to:

• Reconsider how you carry yourself outside of work and titles
• Recognize the weight and responsibility your name holds
• Reflect on what vision of yourself you’re living into
• Embrace the legacy you’re building through integrity

So the question is: when your name is called—whether in the middle of noise, chaos, or conflict—how will you respond?

Walk away with practical reflection prompts and a steady framework: vision to set direction, hope to believe it’s possible, action to make it real, and love to fuel every step. Subscribe, share this with a friend who needs a nudge toward purpose, and leave a review to tell us: which name pulls you back to center when life gets loud?

Chapters

• 0:04 Welcome & Today’s Big Idea
• 0:38 The Nightclub Wake‑Up Call
• 3:23 Choosing Identity Before the Title
• 4:55 Names, Responsibility, And Integrity
• 6:24 The Power Of Being Called “Mom”
• 8:39 Your Name, Your Next Step

Transcript

SPEAKER_00: 0:04

You're listening to One Degree to Victory, the space where stories, strategies, and soul connect. Together we take one small step each week toward the life you know you're called to live. I'm your hostess, Nelita Hollis, and today's story and conversation just might change your life. Years ago, when I was 20-something, I went out with some friends to the local club. And the atmosphere was much like what you'd expect at a club that caters to 20-somethings and to those who still wanted to be 20-something. There were lights, it was dark, there was loud music and heavy drinks, and cheesy fried appetizers. Lord, those were the days. And I was in the middle of all of that madness on the dance floor when I heard a deep baritone voice yell above the music and the other conversations and the laughter across the floor. Miss Thompson. Oh dear God. I was still Miss Thompson at the time. And I'm telling y'all, I stopped dead in my tracks. I turned slowly around and I was thinking to myself, who in the world is calling me Miss Thompson in this club? It was a former inmate from one of the county jails I frequented while I was giving the GED test. Lord have mercy, y'all. Let me tell you, your professional moniker, your professional name, is the last thing you want to hear at the club. I never partied at another nightclub in my hometown. This is an unpopular opinion, but how you carry yourself outside of your job, depending on the job, matters significantly. I hadn't formally started teaching. I was about a year away from that professional milestone. Still, the decision to become an educator wasn't something that happened overnight. It was made decades before. And because of that commitment, I'd been carrying and representing myself as an educator long before I had the official title. I was letting nothing hinder me from becoming an educator. So I was intentional about where I went and what I did. Now don't get me wrong, at 20 something and even now, I'm just like the next person when it comes to enjoying life. I love a good celebration with friends, and I absolutely love to dance. It is one of the simple joys that connects us all as humans. In fact, I have a dream that I will be dancing on every continent someday, experiencing the rhythms and the movements that transcend boundaries. But what I realized that night in that club, when my professional identity unexpectedly collided with my personal life, is this names have weight and titles have responsibility. They tether us back to who we are and who we represent, even when we're in places or moments we'd rather just disappear into the crowd. You see, we live in a culture that loves to say, just be yourself. But more often than not, that's a mask. That's code for do whatever, don't think about tomorrow, and just blend in. And maybe for a season that works. But what happens when someone calls your name? The name tied to your calling, your work, and your responsibility. I've been in another moment where that truth hit me. I was angry, I was heated, and I was in a professional setting. And just as my voice was rising, someone looked at me and said, All right, Dr. Hollis, I don't even have that doctorate yet, y'all. I'm about six, seven months away from that. But when Ms. Mack, as we affectionately called her, called me Dr. Hollis, that pulled me right back to where I was in a professional setting. Whether we like it or not, titles may not define us, but they do come with responsibility. They remind us that we are representing something more than just ourselves. Now I want to be clear, this is not about perfection. Titles don't make you better than anyone else, but they do anchor you. They remind you that integrity matters even when it feels inconvenient. They remind you that people are watching, learning, and sometimes even depending on how you carry yourself. And yes, people have called me out for living with higher standards, for saying no when others said yes, for walking away when the crowd was pressing forward. But what I know now is this, that it is that same integrity that has helped me build when nothing else could. When I had nothing, it held me together. When doors were sealed, shut tight, integrity pushed them open. Constant listener, names and titles are more than words. They're signals. They bring us back to the center when the noise of life gets loud. They remind us of the vision we're building toward and of the legacy we're leaving behind. Whether it's Miss Thompson shouted across a nightclub dance floor or Dr. Hollis spoken in the heat of an argument, names have power. They are not about ego or status, they are about responsibility, presence, and purpose. How many of you, constant listeners, are blessed to be called mom? Being called mom is a sacred weight. As mom, I am the compass that helps point my family toward true north when the storms of life rage around us. I am the quiet gardener planting seeds of character, faith, and wisdom that may not bloom until seasons later. I walk alongside my children through valleys and mountains alike, engaging in conversations that shape their worldview and offer my presence when words fail. My support is unwavering, whether it manifests as a gentle push toward courage or stands as an unshakable foundation beneath their dreams. And perhaps most profoundly for my children, I know without a doubt that I serve as a living example of faith. Not perfect, but persistent in showing them how to trust beyond what can be seen. Being called mom means embodying all of these rules simultaneously. And here's my call to you, constant listener. What name is calling you right now? Maybe it's your family name, maybe it's your professional title, maybe it's mom. Maybe it's just the whisper of your own spirit reminding you of who you're meant to be. Don't ignore it. Your name ties you to more than where you are. It ties you to where you're going. Come on. So the next time someone calls your name in an unexpected place, pause. Ask yourself: Am I carrying myself in a way that honors this name, this title, and this purpose? Because appearances fade, circumstances shift, but the way you respond to your name, the way you walk in your calling, that's the part that lives on. I love you. One degree to victory is about progression, not perfection. And that involves choosing a life that works for you now in this season and building from there. And Sister Girl, it's going to take more than loving yourself. It's going to take vision for where you're going, hope to believe it's possible, action to make it real, and love for your family to fuel every step. Take one degree forward this week, and I'll see you in the next episode.