What’s In A Name?
“For Thursday’s class, I’d like you all to research the origin of your name and share with us your relationship with your name.” She said. I instinctively knew my answer. I have never been comfortable with my name. It always felt like a mismatch. I wondered if anyone else felt their name suited them. At birth, my parents debated between Daryl and Leslie, and I always wished they had chosen the former. I even went as far as threatening to introduce myself as Daryl when I went to college but ultimately, I didn't have the courage.
I hadn’t given it much thought until the instructor in my weekly yoga class asked us to report back about our name. As the students in the class commented on the history of and emotional ties to their name, I realized others do feel comfortable with their name. Some felt a connection through a family namesake, and others just felt their name suited them. I was alone in my discomfort and I’m not sure if my rant shocked the group or if they pitied me, but it was the beginning of many thoughts as to why I felt disconnected from my name.
In my 20’s, I had accepted my name even though I had chickened out on transitioning to Daryl Abner in college. Just as I found some comfort, my name changed when I married at 24. I threatened to be the feminist I hoped to be and maintain my maiden name, but again courage escaped me. The discomfort returned and for the next twenty- three years I would carry a name that made me hesitate before signing.
As my twenty-year wedding anniversary approached, I found myself at the head of a vast conference table in an overly air-conditioned legal office. My attorney walloped me with a barrage of questions, and between “Have you been tested for STD’s?” and “Do you have access to all your bank accounts?” was “Will you be changing your name?” I replied in the affirmative before her words hit the air. I had many issues to address, and my future name was certainly not one of them, but my answer was instinctual, and with conviction. In that moment I understood that my former name was not representative of me. It was not who I was, and a comfort washed over me just knowing I would be returning to my true self in more ways than a name.
When it became official through the court system that I could officially return to my birth name, and I began spreading the word of the change. The responses were universal, and each reply silenced me. “That was never who you truly were Leslie.” It’s funny how recently I was so disconnected to my name, yet today, I’ve found more comfort in it than my entire life. I’m not sure I ever really knew what was in a name until it was lost and then found.