The night Mekisha Murray became one of only four Harris County Democrats to lose a judicial race, her husband had a quick and stinging analysis: "You have your mother to blame for this."

And perhaps, she did. But more so, the discriminating voters of Harris County, who apparently were turned off by Mekisha's uncommon, or ethnic-sounding name.

Curiously, the only other three Democrats who failed in their challenges of vulnerable GOP judicial incumbents also had unusual names: Ashish Mahendru, Andres Pereira and Goodwille Pierre.

Well-funded top-ballot headliners like Barack Obama may have been able to overcome the obstacles presented by their funny-sounding names. But voters seem less tolerant further down the ballot.

Murray, who was vying for the 351st criminal district court bench, earned 542,423 votes, compared with 555,403 for incumbent Mark Kent Ellis.

"Everyone, before they meet me, thinks I'm black," says Murray, a 34-year-old former prosecutor-turned-defense attorney. "And I'm not saying that's bad. I'm just saying that people prejudge. And it's just not right."

Murray, with her fair hair and skin, is about as white as they come under the Texas sun. But she's spent her whole life battling the burdens of the name her hippie parents gave her. (They told her it's Native American.)

In elementary school, she'd come home crying after traumatic teasing from Clear Lake classmates who accused her of being white on the outside, black on the inside. She says the name helped shape her character and gave her a taste of prejudice blacks still experience in this country.

But problems persisted throughout her career. At the district attorney's office, a trial bureau chief kept confusing her with another prosecutor named Tiffany, who happened to be black. When she sent out resumes, she got few responses, despite what she believes is an impressive one. (She worked on the South Texas Law Review and, during her tenure at the DA's office, she said she lost only one felony case, which she tried out of principle.)

"I am a damn good attorney and I'm two years out of the DA's office and I can't get my practice off the ground. I'm still running ads in the Greensheet."

Her election last week was the final straw.

Murray has decided to change her name. Mekisha will soon become plain Jane. When we spoke Wednesday, she told me she was in the process of typing up the petition.

It's not that drastic of a change, Murray says, because she's the spitting image of her late grandmother, named Jane, and family members have always called her "little Jane."

After a few days, Murray's mother gave her blessing on the change, which she says isn't so much about politics as the need to draw more clients. Murray is the sole breadwinner for her husband and 10-year-old son now that her husband, a former sheriff's deputy, is attending law school. And she just spent $15,000 of her own money on a failed campaign.

I asked her if she felt like she was giving in to those who would stereotype and prejudge her?

"Yes, definitely," she said unflinchingly. "But the real world is the real world. You have to do what you have to do to eke out an existence. Right now, I'm a one-income family and I have to pay the bills. And if I have to be Jane, then I have to be Jane. But I'll always be Mekisha.

"We can't kid ourselves," she went on. "I'm a white girl, so I'm going to have a white girl name."

She wouldn't be the first to bow to the forces of name discrimination.

Judge wised up

Republican Cathy Cochran , a court of criminal appeals judge, first ran in 1994 under her married name, Cathy Herasimchuk, despite advice from many.

"I had said, 'Oh, don't be silly. The voters will know and understand the real me and they won't be daunted by the name Herasimchuk.' And of course that proved spectacularly wrong," said the judge, who placed last in that three-person primary.

When Gov. Rick Perry appointed her to the court in 2001, she was wise to the name game and reverted to her maiden name Cochran. So did her husband, who was happy to shed the cumbersome Ukrainian moniker. Plus, he figured, she'd taken his name for 35 years, so he'd take hers for the next 35.

Then there's the case of Ashish Mahendru and R.K. Sandill. Both ran this past election as Democrats for civil district court judgeships. Both are Indian Americans. But only one will don a black robe come January.

After consulting his wife, and his parents, Ravi K. Sandill took the advice of a consultant and traded his name for his initials because, as he puts it, "at the end of the day, there's a little bit of ethnic bias."

"I was doing what I thought I needed to do to win," said Sandill, who unseated 23-year incumbent Republican Judge Sharolyn Wood in the 127th Civil District Court.

If Mahendru has any regrets, he's not letting on. He lost to Sharon McCally, the GOP judge with the highest percentage of votes, despite the fact that he outspent her 32-to-1. According to campaign finance reports, he spent $104,973 to her $3,299.

"I'm not John Smith," Mahendru told me. "I just knew I'd have to work twice as hard and pound the pavement and try to do the right things to connect with people and I think we did."

Sometimes, in politics, that's just not enough.

lisa.falkenberg@chron.com