In English my name means hope. In
Spanish it means too many letters. It means sadness, it means waiting. It is
like the number nine. A muddy color. It is the Mexican records my father plays
on Sunday mornings when he is shaving, songs like sobbing.
It was my great-grandmother's name and
now it is mine. She was a horse woman too, born like me in the Chinese year of
the horse--which is supposed to be bad luck if you're born female-but I think
this is a Chinese lie because the Chinese, like the Mexicans, don't like their
women strong.
My great-grandmother. I would've liked
to have known her, a wild, horse of a woman, so wild she wouldn't marry. Until
my great-grandfather threw a sack over her head and carried her off. Just like
that, as if she were a fancy chandelier. That's the way he did it.
And the story goes she never forgave
him. She looked out the window her whole life, the way so many women sit their
sadness on an elbow. I wonder if she made the best with what she got or was she
sorry because she couldn't be all the things she wanted to be. Esperanza. I
have inherited her name, but I don't want to inherit her place by the window.
At school they say my name funny as if
the syllables were made out of tin and hurt the roof of your mouth. But in
Spanish my name is made out of a softer something, like silver, not quite as
thick as sister's name Magdalena--which is uglier than mine. Magdalena who at
least- -can come home and become Nenny. But I am always Esperanza. I would like
to baptize myself under a new name, a name more like the real me, the one
nobody sees. Esperanza as Lisandra or Maritza or Zeze the X. Yes. Something
like Zeze the X will do.
Hello! I found an essay while I was browsing Tumblr that made me think of this writing assignment so I thought I would share--I hope that's okay! I really enjoyed it.
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure how to make the hyperlink actually, but this is copy/pasteable:
http://the-toast.net/2014/01/15/the-names-they-gave-me/#idc-cover
Wow, this is pretty good! I follow a lot of writing blogs on mine, but I haven't seen this come up before. Thanks for sharing! :D
DeleteYeah I liked it a lot! I thought it really related to the first writing prompt and the posted essay. I think it came from one of the feminist blogs I follow but I can't remember offhand which one now x.x It might have been one of the writing blogs instead... But at any rate I found it interesting and relevant. :3
Delete:)
DeleteThanks for posting, Rachel. I think the post is very relevant to our in class writing. Great contribution!
ReplyDeleteThe blog belongs to the class community. I expect us all to contribute to it over the duration of the semester.
Thanks again.
I guess I'll be the first to take the plunge and throw in my (really rough) draft of the name writing prompt :)
ReplyDeleteThe Name
Rachel never seemed to suit me, but it’s been a label for me so long it’s difficult to think of myself as anything other than that. I never liked the sound or the spelling or the meaning. “Ewe” a sheep. It’s the opposite of what I’ve grown into. I am not part of a flock, I chafe at being driven or blindly following a crowd or a person, and as I have grown older the awareness that female names often denote possessions, passive qualities, or livestock has become uncomfortable.
I always wished it was spelled “Rachael” at least, in the past because I thought it looked prettier, and then because I enjoy the echo of an angelic sort of word, in the Enochian sense of unknowable and powerful eldritch creatures, but my parents chose the plainer spelling. Even with the simplest combination of letters though, more often than not on junk mail or on documents my name is misspelled with various levels of creativity.
When I was eight I thought perhaps I would try to be called by my middle name, Anne, an early attempt at changing the person I was through external means, though this ultimately proved fruitless, as I’d grown accustomed to being called by my lamb-name, and couldn’t quite remember I was trying to be something else in a proto-attempt to exert independence from my parents and home and life to that point. The process continued despite the experiments failure.
I’ve become more or less resigned to being called Rachel now, pulling examples that I like from the things I love, characters or people with my name that reflect parts of my persona; an alienated, cool replicant, a superhero, a chef. In the end it’s not the meaning or connotations that suit me, but the seep of the word into my identity like water into hardwood floors.
But hey, at least I can always find my name on novelty keychains.
My name, Lisa, is something that I hate. It was given to me by my mother. I do not hate my mother for giving me this name, but the name just does not suit me, or so I think. For years of people learning my name they crack jokes left and right about some famous person or some other person who is not me. Why does no one see me for me? Instead, they see someone else with my name.
ReplyDeleteIn German it means “devoted to god”, yet I sit here today contemplating religion. It is not that I don’t believe, but rather religion is constricting and often close minded. With my name I feel a sort of obligation that I must also have such devotion, yet I do not. How can I change this? What did I do wrong while growing up that I am not like the rest of my family?
My name is a constant reminder of me being the odd person out from my family. Of being adopted by my father and having a half-brother. A constant reminder that I have another “father” out there somewhere. I know I’m different from the rest of my family, reclusive, quiet, too caring and too much of a pushover. I tend to put everyone else in the family first and forget to worry about me. But my name is constantly telling me that I am a living, breathing, reason to why my other father ran away. Would my mother have stayed with him instead if I was not here? Or would he still leave? What is he doing now? Does he have kids of his own? All these questions and most of them have no answers. That is why I hate my name.
My name is Vanda.
ReplyDeleteCould be found from European origins, like high German, but that’s not where my name is from.
My name is Asian.
I am a flower, a banana orchid--to be more exact--that is common in Southeast Asia. This is what my mother named me after. This is my mother’s favourite flower.
But that is not all.
I am an incarnation of Vishnu, an upholder of the Dharma and saviour to the universe. I create and respect my environment and maintain peace. This is also something my mother named me after. This is a deity she admires.
This name is the embodiment of beauty and power. I have bestowed upon me those two qualities, as given to me by a woman who not only holds those traits, but also diligence and perseverance.
I am the epitome of what she hopes for me to be, and I will live up to that. I will be beautiful and powerful, hardworking, and diligence. For her sake, and to honour the god she believes in.
My name is simple (Insert Dad joke here)
ReplyDeleteMy name is easy to spell, if you've met my mother.
I don't like my name, because it isn't spelled correctly.
I don't like my name, because every substitute and new teacher has spelled/pronounced it wrong. If they did pronounce it correctly, it was because it was spelled how it was meant to be spelled, not how my mother spells it.
My name makes me upset. I don't like hearing it, ever. When teachers ask, my name is not my name.
My name is Demetirus, and I hate it.
My name is Kaitlin. I've been told over and over it's Irish and very pretty and feminine. That I will be a neat and caring young woman. That my name means patience and joy.
ReplyDeleteBut to me my name is unoriginal. It's constant and lacks a sort of uniqueness that I strive for. I want a name that few people hear on a daily basis. KAITLIN its so common that no one has ever had difficulty pronouncing it.
In my high school class there were 15 other girls named Kaitlin. Yes it had a unique spelling, and only one of the other girls spelled it the same way. But it didn't roll off the tongue any different than the other 15 Kaitlins.
I wanted my name to be mine and mine alone. I want something unique that has a spark and flare when it rolls off the tongue, like Monica.
But to me my name is unoriginal like a piece of hay in a hay stack.
DeleteJo. Joe. Josephus. Josephine. Jehoshaphat. Broseph. Joey. Mojo Jojo. Momo Mango Mojito. Flintlock. Hair Trigger. Flint. Caliban. Callie. Susanna. Orange. Poptart. Jojojo Jo Jo-Jojo. [Profane nicknames redacted.]
ReplyDeleteRoughly, Yosef means God's gift to man. Romanized, it's Ioseph, which corrupts to Josef in Old and Middle English, for the most part. Modern English prefers Joseph. Many Josephs have brought gifts to man. Glidden: barbed wire, a significant factor in the expansion of cattle farming into the West. Smith: Mormonism, and its charity functions (I don't consider Romney a gift). Stalin: the deaths of millions by starvation and more; again, not a gift, but more of an impact. Monomenously, Joseph, father in name of Jesu Domine. There are dozens of Josephs, household names and otherwise, whose names are worth writing in history books. There are three million men in the United States named Joseph Mitchell.
But I'm nothing like them. I've never invented anything, never seized control of a titanic political regime andor crashed one, never organized a religion, never played father for a dragon-tongued Messiah. I'm just some kid, never left the country, who wants to read the inscriptions on Cypriot pottery and carve out some sort of place in the world, something to rest upon when, inevitably, I must.
My name is Morgan; or as close friends call me, Morgs. Soon in the near future, when i become a teacher, my students will be able to call me Ms. Morgan. In grade school classmates would like to laugh because it rhymed with organ. I would also get asked the casual question, "Like, Morgan Freeman?" No. Not like Morgan Freeman.
ReplyDeleteMorgan means "lives by the sea" which makes perfect sense because i love the beach and warm places. This doesn't really fit in considering i was born and raised in Cleveland. I still will never get used to the snow and cold. I know i want to move somewhere warm after i graduate college.
It is said that people with this name have a deep inner need for quiet, and a desire to understand and analyze the world they live in, and to learn the deeper truths. That is completely true. I am not a quiet person but from time to time i do have an inner need for the quiet. I like having a break from people and relaxing in my own space. I also have the desire to understand everything happening around me. I want to know what is happening and why.
My mother and father were going to name me Kelsey. I'm glad that i wasn't named Kelsey. I dont think i look like a Kelsey.
I dont dislike or like my name. The only thing i do like about it is that not many people are named Morgan. It isn't unheard of but also isn't worn out. I deal with my name because i can't see myself named anything else.
My name is Suzie and it always felt wrong. Suzie is a name for exciting people – people who do things that are new and bright and full of fireworks. I'm not one of those people; quiet and reserved waiting to be called on rather than to pluck up any courage I may have and speak first. I'm a leo born in sunny August bright and shining, and that seems to match my name perfectly – a zodiac and a name which warrant life and adventure but I always thought I belonged in autumn.
ReplyDeleteI wasn't named after anyone in particular. My name was a result of my parent's compromise, my mother wanting something elegant and clean my father going back to his country roots wanting something rough and remniscent of his mother. the spinning bottle of compromise, after some length of time, landed haphazardly on Suzanne, which is not a name for a child, so I'm Suzie. S U Z I E. No Y's and only one S in the whole thing. It seems a simple enough name to spell but I have a mountain of disposable coffee cups which beg to differ.
My name means lily. A simple white flower which makes appearances at weddings and funerals. I am still uncertain what this says about me, but one would think that a fact like that would have some impact on a person's life.
Erika. Such a plain name, but one my mother cherished. When she was a little girl all of her dolls were given the name. Why though? Erica Cain. She was a movie star; a very beautiful one at that. My mother made a promise to herself that if she ever had a daughter that she would give her that name. She wanted her daughter to grow up to be as beautiful as Erica Cain, but she also wanted me to be different. Most people do not seem to recognize my name; at least how it is spelled. Why was Erika so unheard of compared to Erica? My mom grasped the uniqueness of the different spelling and wanted it to be a way that made me stand out among others. E. To most people it may just be a simple letter, but it means much more to me than that. It is my most known nickname that all my family and friends refer to me as. Sissy. The name that I hear echoing in my house when I venture to my hometown on the weekends. KK. The name that seemed to stick with me when my little cousins couldn't pronounce my name. Teacher. What my little two year olds yell at me when they decide to forget my real name. Ozzy. The name that was yelled at me as I was running down the ball court.
ReplyDeleteMy name is Courtney. To some people they call me Peanut, the nickname I have had since before I came into this world. Their is also Court just a shorter name that my little cousins can pronounce or a name my closest friends call me. Then their is Courtney Lee which is most commonly used by my parents when I have done something wrong. I will respond to any of these names. But I will always be known or called Courtney.
ReplyDeleteMy name was not in the mix my parents tell me before I was born. They had other ideas like Bethany. I for one do not like nor look like a Bethany. Finally a couple minutes after I was born my dad suggested Courtney, a close family friend, a name that means caring. That name stuck like glue and is my name that will forever define who I am.
My name to the inside world is Jesicca Rains
ReplyDeleteMy name to the outside world is Jesicca Salt
I am a different girl each day,
Hidden behind a name
If you know my story you know me as salt
If you know my name, but not my story you know me as Rains
To my guard girls I am Bane
Because Bane rhymes with Rain.
My nickname is a villain in a movie?
I don’t know how that suits me but I guess it works, and is easy to remember.
My best friend calls me ghetto
She says I am a black girl inside a white girl’s body because I have a ghetto booty and the way I dance
I grew up being called ghetto, and everyone assumed I grew up in the ghetto in London
When actually I lived in a subdivision in town
I am a girl of many names, but if someone doesn’t know me they call me Jesicca
My name is Brenna Zito. Some people call me Bren, my dad calls me Zete. Most of my friends like to call me Brennan or Brenda to piss me off.
ReplyDeleteMy name is Italian, which makes sense because my parents are Italian and I come from a huge Italian family. There are numerous farms in Italy and southeaster Norway named Brenna. I live on a horse farm so this makes sense to me as well.
My name means “One who looks forward to the future, shy and sensitive, one who has a meaning in life, or does something to make mad others, one who doesn’t like to be put under pressure, at times loves to be in the limelight, one who people envy, protective of the ones she cares about.” This doesn’t describe me in the best way in my opinion. I do look forward to the future, too much sometimes but I am the farthest thing from shy. I do wear my heart on my sleeve but I love to be put under pressure. I enjoy challenges. I am very protective of people I care about and I do enjoy being in the limelight.
I like my name, sometimes. The story behind my name; was born of December 8th, my mother wanted my name to be Nicole (which I am extremely glad did not happen). The day after I was delivered, my mom had told my dad that she had decided on the name Nicole but my father told her that he had already sent out the Christmas cards saying “Brenna”. So my name is Brenna Nicole Zito
I like my name but it gets frustrating. My sisters name is Breann and I’m Brenna so as you can imagine, everyone gets us mixed up. All the time. Especially at Christmas time with our presents.