What's in a Name?

Irene shares a journal entry:

 

When the pronunciation of your name changes,

you think of it a lot more.

Irene. Peace in Greek.

I guess I like my name. Maybe just out of obligation.

 

Let me explain.

The first form.

Some might call it my given name, my “English name” Irene.  A name mostly given to babies born in the 1930s.

It rhymes with “green” or “bean,”

common nicknames of my childhood.

It’s short and sweet, to the point.

It demands your mouth to make that annoying eee sound,

like the sound you make when imitating a broken lawnmower.

It is my name.

It is how I identify myself.

It is one of my uniquenesses.

 

The second form.

Some might call it my name with a twist, my “Spanish name” Irene. A name much more common in other parts of the world. A name not given to me by my parents.

With a stretch of the imagination, it rhymes with “rainy” or “grainy.”

I’m not really sure if I relate to “rainy” or “grainy” yet.

This form of Irene rolls off the tongue,

sweetly transitioning from eee to ray to hee.

Sweet. But not what I am used to.

Different. But different is okay too.

It is my name.

It is how I identify myself.

It is one of my uniquenesses.

 

So, if you ask me which form I prefer,

I would respond with a yes.

I love hearing my given name, the first form.

I love its originality. The way it ties me to my parents and family.

I love my Spanish name, the second form.

I love running into people at el mercado with the same name as me.

I love making English speakers laugh by how different it is.

I love not recognizing my name because it is new and unrecognizable.

Irene is my name.

Irene is how I identify myself.

Irene is one of my uniquenesses.