STORY OF OUR NAMES
Names carry meaning and power. Here we will explore what our names mean to us through the stories of our names.
Lilianne Tang
Lilianne Chang Tang. That’s what it says on my birth certificate. My first name is spelled incorrectly because my mom didn’t know English very well at the time. It was supposed to be spelled as L-i-l-l-i-a-n. But instead, it’s L-i-l-i-a-n-n-e. Chang is my mom’s last name and Tang is my dad’s last name. My parents are not legally married, but they made sure that whatever happened, each of them would always be a part of me.
I actually hated my name growing up. Lily-ANNE. It sounded so white on paper. The last syllable - always emphasized for no reason at all. Frequently misspelled and mispronounced because the Ls and Is were too confusing – how many are there of each and where do they even belong? I’ve been called Lianne, Lily Annie, Lilani, and even simplified to just plain ‘ol Lily. I hated the spelling of my name so much that through most of my K-12 education, I used Lillian on all of my school documents. I even refused to share my middle name because Chang and Tang together sounded too closely to a racial slur.
I remember growing up and always feeling mad that I could never find a key chain or a mug with my name on it at souvenir stores. Something so small, but for some reason, meant so much to me. I guess I didn’t feel close to that spelling of my name. It wasn’t until my junior year of high school that I decided to reclaim Lilianne. Lots of college-related forms were coming at me, so I started using my “real” name again. I realized that the only reason I hated my name was because of the way people pronounced it – Lily-ANNE: so white, yet none of my lived experiences resembled what my name sounded like.
The truth is that I actually love the spelling of my name. So I started to embrace Lilianne and corrected people who mispronounced it. With the exception of my family. My dad calls me ‘Leelin’ because he can’t actually pronounce my name. My mom calls me ‘Linlin’ because that rolled off the tongue easier for her. Sometimes, even she forgets the spelling of my name, and that’s okay. It’s really a reminder of how since birth, my name was and continues to be tied to some sense of my identity - being a child of immigrants, daughter of refugees who survived the Khmer Rouge.
I don’t care for the meaning of my name. But I care that I give meaning to my name. I am a first-generation, low-income Cambodian American woman who is the first on my mom’s side and the first woman on my dad’s side of the family to get a Master’s degree. I am a strong, outspoken, and brilliant Asian American woman who has agency to pursue my passions in social justice. Through my struggles and my triumphs, like a lotus flower that is rooted in the depths of muddy ponds, I rise above the darkness and bloom into a beautiful flower. Like a symbol of critical hope despite the challenging circumstances that the lotus flowers grow in. I am defying the odds that have been stacked against me and thriving in ways I didn’t know was possible. I hope that when people see or speak of my name, they will know - Lilianne is resilient.
Claudine Dirilo
My name carries three generations within it. My name is Claudine, my mother’s name is Claudie, and my grandmother’s name is Claudia. My mother just wanted to keep the Claud tradition going and here I am.
Jazmyn Gray
I was always in an odd place growing up. My name was always average, common, but the spelling was unique. If I wanted my name on a keychain, it had to be spelled incorrectly. This never bothered me; I didn’t need my name to be spelled correctly. Everyone spelled my name incorrectly anyways, a few knick knacks and souvenirs never affected me.
I grew up thinking my name was uninspired, unoriginal. There was always at least one other person in my class with the same name. My name was always uninspired, I still have not come to love it. The spelling is the only reason I have refused to change it.
I really do not like a lot of different things about my name: how common it is, but the lack of “Jasmine’s” (or any variation) we see in professional fields, how enunciating each syllable sounds condescending. The name never fit me or my aspirations.
It is ironic that a name that does not even fit me caused so much strife between my parents before I was born. My parents were so meticulous in the spelling to create nicknames that I would not even use. My mother insisting my name be spelt with a “y” for creativity and my father requiring a “z” rather than an “s”, creating “Jazzy”, a nickname I refuse to be called.
I have consistently thought about changing my name, to something more unique, more fitting. I asked my father what he would think if I changed my name, and he was immediately upset. He thought it would be too confusing to rebrand. I know I don’t have to listen to his thoughts, but I do.
Overall, there’s nothing particularly wrong with my name. I don’t particularly like it, but it is not difficult to remember or mispronounced. It feels like it would be a betrayal to the thoughts my parents put into my name to change and not like it. So, I will continue to endure it.