If I had a dollar for every single time someone accidentally called me Ellie, I would be able to pay to legally change my name twelve times. It costs $500 in court legal fees to change your first name. I know this because up until I reached the bright age of 13, I considered changing my name more than once. Being a little girl in suburban New Jersey with a name like "Eli" made blending in with the crowd during my awkward middle school years extremely difficult. I wanted a name like Sarah, Jenny, Olivia, Sophie – something that just seemed normal. Nothing about my label was normal. But I was stuck with Eli – a name rarely given to a little Christian girl... or any girl for that matter. I hated everything about "Eli" – the way it sounded, the way it clashed with my little girl dresses and bows, the way it was constantly questioned. I was forced into being different, without even wanting to be different. I immediately had absolutely no choice but to stand out. It was mostly against my will, because what 10 year old wants to stand out when everyone around them is trying to blend into the crowd. Throughout middle school, my peers hid their shiny foreheads behind bangs and changing bodies under layer of clothes. But there I was - the girl named "Eli", and there was no use in even trying to hide from that.
Our first names, our labels, the first thing the people we meet everyday find out about us. Love them, hate them, have no opinion on them – we are stuck with our names. Yes, growing up I absolutely despised being the girl named Eli. Sometimes, I still get aggravated by my name. Countlessly correcting people that it is ELI and not ELLIE, giving up when it's clear that they won't get it any time soon, being mistaken for a boy in interviews and on the first day of school, being flood with questions wondering where such a strange name comes from; it gets tiring. Most recently I had a boy come up to me at a crowded frat party and ask for my name. When I said "It's Eli," he said "A boy name? That's so freaking hot." I rolled my eyes and immediately turned the other way.
It took me a significantly long time to accept my name, grow into it, and love it like I do today. After complaining about my name and making long lists of things I could change it to in my future, I began to realize that my name prompts my personality, my unique passions, and confidence. If I had been given a common label, I wouldn't be who I am today. Being the girl named Eli makes me memorable whether I like it not, it makes me stand out in a classroom, an audition, an interview, a first date – it makes me realize the importance of being your own kind of different in a world where everyone wants to be the same.
I will never let my daughter off easy – I am not giving her a name that I've ever seen on an audition sheet under mine, in a college class roster, or in an email chain sent to members of clubs that I am in on campus. I may have spent much of my adolescent days and angsty teen years questioning "Why did my parents do this to me?" But I've realized that they've given me such a gift. Being the girl named Eli is the most important thing in my life. It has taught me life lessons about being true to yourself, embracing things that are unique to you, not hiding behind social constructs to blend in, and never being afraid to be bold.
One day when my sweet little girl (named Noah, Elliot, or Billie) comes home crying because of her name – whether she was made fun of on the playground for having a "weird name," is complaining about her first grade teacher having blue folders for her on the first day of school while all the other girls had pink, or not getting invited to the girl's birthday parties in elementary school because a mother thought she was a boy on the class roster, I will know how to dry her tears.
"One day," I'll say, "You'll be at a university with 50,000 other students and you'll be so scared of how easy it feels to be just another number. But you'll look into yourself, and see that you are special and you'll feel okay. And you can thank your pretty name for that."
