"Do you like your name?"
This was a writing post prompt from NaBloPoMo for June 29th. It's something I've been thinking about for some time and thought I'd take the time to blog about it. I have many names. By names, I mean names people call me. I can't call them nicknames because they aren't; the names I am called are derivations of my real name. I think nicknames are attributes randomly used to address someone. Calling a Joseph, Joe, for example, is not my definition of a nickname.
I don't like my first name.
I have a first name that I was never called by until high school. I went to a catholic all girls school. The nuns insisted I be referred to by my given, christian name. I was ok with that part, but what I didn't like was that people would automatically shorten it from the full (and apparently exhausting 3 syllables it takes to say it), Valerie to a one syllable sound Val, that I find mildly irritating. I was not ok with that. But at the time, I didn't think too much about it, because most of the girls still called me by the name they heard my grade school friends call me. But once I got to college, Val took on a life of it's own. Even some of my oldest friends started calling me Val, because they said, "everybody else is calling me that." (insert Tiffany Greene face here)
The second reason I don't like being called Val is that is what my dad is called. It's his name, not mine. But again, it's the shortened version. His first name is Valmore. And he's a junior, which means at one time, there were two black men named Valmore. As I've come to understand it, my paternal grandmother (whom I never had the chance to meet) worked for a German Jewish family in West Virginia. She was their cook, their maid, their nanny etc. She told my father that she named him after the family patriarch, hoping her employer's good fortune would rub off onto her son. Ironically, he spent most of his youth being referred to as Junior, not Val. Don't get me wrong; I love that I'm named after my dad (so glad I'm a girl though), and being that I'm 42 years old now I should be used to it, but I'm not. I bristle just the slightest bit when I hear Val in reference to me. And I hear it alot. Everyday. Even my kids don't get it. I would love to tell people to stop calling me that, but telling people to start using a different first name is quite awkward, and I'm awkward enough as it is. Especially at work. Especially with folks who aren't all that geeked about calling you anything in the first place. I never sign my name Val, I never introduce myself as Val, and still no one has caught on.
I do like my middle name. I wish it were my first name.
Obviously it's Rebecca. Absolutely NO ONE calls me Rebecca. Again, there must be some sort of mental block people have against pronouncing 3-syllable names. I was named for my father's mother. Everyone called her Beckie, so that is what my parents called me.That's what everyone called me. So on the first day of kindergarten (which I do remember), Miss Manski asked if Valerie S. was in attendance. I didn't know who she was, but I did know B came before V (I was very bright) as she should have called me first. After much debate, tears and my mother's embarrassment that I didn't know my name (she never told me, although she claims she did), I gave in to this silly idea that the name Valerie had to come before Rebecca even though Valerie was never used before then. I once sent Christmas cards to my extended family the year I got my first apartment. The family gathering that following Easter, my aunt asks, does anyone know who Valerie is? I got a Xmas card from some woman claiming to be my niece!"
I used to get teased for being called Beckie. "I never met a black girl named Beckie before...is that really your name?" When I would explain it was really my middle name I would hear, "Oh, so you just trying to be special by using your middle name!" (See face above) Umm, not really and umm, so what? Sorry if you want to call me Shanenee or Sadika, but that just isn't my name. Am I less black because of it? Seriously? Fuck what Sir Mixalot's Baby Got Back says. Surprisingly most folks who said stuff like that, had a "white-like" name themselves, whatever that is. Really.not.my.issue.
A handful, more like a sprinkling or a pinch full of folks call be Becca. I like that name-lette too, but I don't call myself that. I stick with what I know. What my Mama taught me (inspite of what she claims). What my paternal grandmother was called while she cleaned houses for a living. What my dad named me in honor of her.
P.S. And it's with an -i-e, not a -y!
This was a writing post prompt from NaBloPoMo for June 29th. It's something I've been thinking about for some time and thought I'd take the time to blog about it. I have many names. By names, I mean names people call me. I can't call them nicknames because they aren't; the names I am called are derivations of my real name. I think nicknames are attributes randomly used to address someone. Calling a Joseph, Joe, for example, is not my definition of a nickname.
I don't like my first name.
I have a first name that I was never called by until high school. I went to a catholic all girls school. The nuns insisted I be referred to by my given, christian name. I was ok with that part, but what I didn't like was that people would automatically shorten it from the full (and apparently exhausting 3 syllables it takes to say it), Valerie to a one syllable sound Val, that I find mildly irritating. I was not ok with that. But at the time, I didn't think too much about it, because most of the girls still called me by the name they heard my grade school friends call me. But once I got to college, Val took on a life of it's own. Even some of my oldest friends started calling me Val, because they said, "everybody else is calling me that." (insert Tiffany Greene face here)
I do like my middle name. I wish it were my first name.
Obviously it's Rebecca. Absolutely NO ONE calls me Rebecca. Again, there must be some sort of mental block people have against pronouncing 3-syllable names. I was named for my father's mother. Everyone called her Beckie, so that is what my parents called me.That's what everyone called me. So on the first day of kindergarten (which I do remember), Miss Manski asked if Valerie S. was in attendance. I didn't know who she was, but I did know B came before V (I was very bright) as she should have called me first. After much debate, tears and my mother's embarrassment that I didn't know my name (she never told me, although she claims she did), I gave in to this silly idea that the name Valerie had to come before Rebecca even though Valerie was never used before then. I once sent Christmas cards to my extended family the year I got my first apartment. The family gathering that following Easter, my aunt asks, does anyone know who Valerie is? I got a Xmas card from some woman claiming to be my niece!"
I used to get teased for being called Beckie. "I never met a black girl named Beckie before...is that really your name?" When I would explain it was really my middle name I would hear, "Oh, so you just trying to be special by using your middle name!" (See face above) Umm, not really and umm, so what? Sorry if you want to call me Shanenee or Sadika, but that just isn't my name. Am I less black because of it? Seriously? Fuck what Sir Mixalot's Baby Got Back says. Surprisingly most folks who said stuff like that, had a "white-like" name themselves, whatever that is. Really.not.my.issue.
A handful, more like a sprinkling or a pinch full of folks call be Becca. I like that name-lette too, but I don't call myself that. I stick with what I know. What my Mama taught me (inspite of what she claims). What my paternal grandmother was called while she cleaned houses for a living. What my dad named me in honor of her.
