I don’t hate my given name. I’ve had it for almost 17 years, which is enough time to get used to anything.
Okay, it might feel a little awkward to hear it pronounced, or to say it myself. And it’s certainly weird to see feminine women called that same name. But most of my friends call me by my androgynous nickname, which they made up unawares of my gender explorations.
Even so, I’ve daydreamed about having a more neutral name. The thing is, most Hispanic names come from saints, who are very gendered persons indeed; so I’d have to go for a foreign name. There are many that I love –such as Dhani, like George Harrison’s son–, but for me, a name has to really fit, like an old t-shirt. Exotic names, even gorgeous ones, feel sort of scratchy.
After thinking about all this, and since I can’t legally change my name anyway, I decided to just keep my given name.
But as John Lennon said, life is what happens to you when you’re trying to make other plans.
I swear I wasn’t looking for a new, male, name for myself. I was actually trying to do some homework when suddenly I remembered certain name. It’s old, it’s religious, it’s just an ordinary name. I don’t even know how a totally male name could fit me.
But it fits.