We live in a society that puts a lot of emphasis on one's identity, be it physical, social, sexual and every other category I haven't mentioned. Names are especially important because it makes things easy. We don't have to say, "Can you hand me that red-colored fruit next to you?" when you're referring to an apple. We don't have to list out a best friend's physical attributes in order for someone else to know who we're talking about; we just use his or her name and things become a whole lot clearer. Of course, names aren't just words that we tack on to individuals and all of them have at least some level of a deeper meaning. Some perceptions of a name are more or less positive or neutral, while others can be somewhat damaging.
I have two names that I use in my life. One is "Kristina," my American and legal first name, and the other is "ì• ë¦¬" (spelled as "Aelee"), my Korean and legal middle name. I definitely hear "Kristina" a lot more when I'm out in the world; only relatives address me through my Korean name. (Except for my younger sister and male cousin, both of whom just use the appropriate honorific title because we're that comfortable with each other.) It's interesting to see how the rooted meanings for each projects an aspect of myself that I reject or accept as a pivotal part of my existence.
"Kristina" (the name that my parents personally chose) derives from the word "Christian," which is a bit ironic, considering how my faith has been at the lowest of the low for four years and counting. I grew up in the church and still faintly believe that a higher being exists, but not in any particular one. I learned shortly before senior year that the correct term for this is agnosticism. "Aelee" (the name that my grandparents personally chose) means "good listener." That, I think, hits the nail right on the head; I don't like to talk when I don't have to and, instead, prefer to observe. I've learned that there's a lot that you gain when you choose to primarily hear rather than primarily speak. (It came in handy in middle school because I was a hub for secrets and gossip. It was entertaining.)
These two names create separate halves of my life and compartmentalize who I am into certain molds. That isn't to say that I'm bound to what I perceive to be towards other people just by a, "Hello, my name is so-and-so" introduction, but we have a tendency to make first impressions and judgments about someone just by their name alone. We spot a tall, skinny blonde and may subconsciously think, "She looks like a 'Tiffany,' doesn't she?" or an average-looking brunette and muse that he's either "Eric" or "Chris." The more "unique" and "eccentric" names are also victims of this categorizing, as if exoticism in a name heightens or deflects an individual's character. My last name even undergoes this kind of scrutiny because "it's a Chinese last name" and, thus, I've had people firmly believe that I'm Chinese until otherwise stated. (For the record, my last name is supposed to be "Jang.")
I've had people tell me, jokingly or not, that I "don't look or act like a 'Kristina'" and I never thought about the implications behind that statement until recently. Exactly how am I supposed to look or act? And is there something wrong with the fact that I don't adhere to those expectations? The answer is, of course, no. Names are vital parts of who we are as human beings, but they shouldn't be surrounded by plainly stereotypical notions that most likely have nothing to do with us at all.
