A Wardrobe of Names

"I am not my name. My name is something I wear, like a shirt. It gets worn. I outgrow it, I change it." - Jerry Spinelli

If names were like shirts, I would have a whole dresser full of them. As a child I was steadfastly adhered to my given name, Madison. My mother spent years trying to convince me to allow her cute little pet names for me.

"Come here, my little kuulei." She would say. (This means little flower in Hawaiian.)

"My name is Madison." I'd respond coldly. Although I no longer remember a particular reason for sticking to my given name, friends and family tell me I was almost frightening in my rejection of all other names. However, this was not to be a permanent attachment.

In Kindergarten I began taking hula classes, and one of the traditions of a hula group is to give each girl a Hawaiian name. My mother and my kumu (teacher in Hawaiian), spent weeks deciding and in the end, named me after my grandmother. From then on, I was known to my dancing peers as Meipela, which means Mabel in Hawaiian. I wore this name for eleven years and recently, with the disbanding of our group, I was allowed to put that particular shirt into the closet for good.

Sometime in first grade, after I realized nicknames were not wholly evil, my mother wrote out a few ways to spell my new nickname, and asked me to chose one. There were so many options! Maddy, Maddie, Maddi, Mattie... After careful consideration, I wrote on the paper a sloppy M, crooked A, backwards D, and two squiggly I's. Madii. Little did I realize that the unusual spelling, that to my young mind had been cool and unique, was to be an eternal thorn in my side. Why? Because no one spells it right. Ever.

However, I suppose would rather have a name that is spelled wrong than pronounced wrong. Oh wait, never mind, I have both! My last name is Korean, and pronounced exactly the same as the word on. When read, it is actually phonetic, yet I have had to learn to respond to calls for, "Madison Ann!?"; then, with a polite smile, correct the speaker. Very rarely does anyone correctly pronounce my name on the first try. Just last month though, I was pleasantly surprised when, on the first day of class my professor said my right while taking attendance. On most other occasions we are in the Asian market, or somewhere that my last name is more commonplace.

The one name I have never had any issues with in regards of other people, is my middle name. That's not to say I've never had issues with it personally. My sister was given the pretty, traditional Japanese name, handed down from my grandmother on my father's side. I on the other hand got the plain, English name given to me from a great aunt I had never met. Jewel. Although it may make you think of sparkling gems and precious stones, it never quite had the exotic ring to it that I wanted.  

Regardless of my issues or frustrations with each of my names, first, last, middle and other, I wouldn't change any of them. They are like milestones; either from moments in my past, or in my families history, making them important in their own ways. Despite the fact that they may have holes in them, be stained, or just plain ugly, each one is a hypothetical shirt that I will never let go of.