What's in a name?

I find myself wondering about the question in the title of this blog post. We are just starting to take a look at Romeo & Juliet in my 9th grade English classes and as Shakespeare wrote it, "That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet." The idea of names is on my mind because this past week was the one year anniversary of my legal day. On January 9, 2017, I legally changed my name to what it is now. As I reflect back, I had anxiety about the process. I was uncertain if I could and should change my name. I had not been in court before and I admit to being nervous. In hindsight, the process was very quick and it was really a check to see that all of the paperwork was handled correctly. Everyone involved was polite, efficient and respectful. Most of my anxiety stemmed from me thinking about my Mom and Dad. In my opinion, naming a child is a sacred right afforded to the parents. I felt guilt that I was usurping their right to do this fifty-five years after the fact. I contemplated the idea for much of 2017 leading up to the change. At one point, I asked my mom what I would have been named had I been born a girl. She told me, "Marilyn." That was of no help as I have a younger sister Marilyn so I couldn't switch to that. I had been using the name Deena or Dee with family

and friends. That process evolved over time. The first few names I went with were rather popular in the online communities I went to for support, so I created Deena in an attempt at uniqueness. Next, I debated the middle initial. On one hand, I wanted to keep my same initials and find an 'A' middle name. But in the end, I thought about how I love the sunrise and the hope that comes with the light of each new day so I picked Dawn as my middle name. One of my cousins suggested Aurora, which can mean the dawn, but since we have a major corporate hospital by that name in this neck of the woods I declined.

Eventually I had a conversation with my mom. I let her know that I didn't want to hurt her feelings or take away from the name that they chosen. In the end, I told her that I wanted to give her back her choice and let her choose my name for me. I was completely ready to accept any name that she wanted to give me. Being my ever sweet mother, she said that she liked Deena Dawn so I began the legal paperwork. To honor my legal day, my girlfriends at work gave me a necklace with my initials on one side and my legal day on the other. I cherish this thoughtful gift, as well as my mother's love.

It was around this time that my mom let me know a long held secret. In 1961, when she was pregnant with me, ultrasound capabilities had not been invented. My mom's physician told her that she might be having twins. (I guess there is truth when I've been called a 'big baby'!) My mom told me that she secretly wished that she was having twins, a boy and a girl. Again, 55 years after my birth, my octogenarian mother told me that with my transition, she got her wish. I cried when she told me and I cry when I think of this. In an earlier blog, I mentioned reading the book The Faithful Gardener by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. The book is the weaving together of several stories centered around an uncle who fled war in Hungary to relocate to the United States. Leaving a war torn country and

moving to a foreign culture was an adjustment. On page 27 she wrote, "...and uncle's wandering spirit, chased out of him by so much war, began to hover near him again. And little by little, Uncle began to grow back into one person instead of two." That line continues to resonate with me. For decades I lived two lives, the secret female life I kept hidden and the male life I presented. Over the last five years I slowly revealed myself to family and friends. My mental health suffered trying to manage this. Eventually, I knew that I could not continue. I either had to end both lives or become one. After scary thoughts and dark times, I opted for the latter choice. Only recently have I begun to feel that I am becoming one person. I find it difficult to communicate how this feels and how it impacts me. Visualizing the words of The Faithful Gardener, with my spirit hovering near me, helps me. My presentation matters less.

I continue to struggle with gender dysphoria but the essence of me seems to be clearer.

It matters not what I call myself. My ideals and values, while perhaps slightly changed, remain intact. Time has a way of tweaking our beliefs as both our world, our thinking, and our situations change; my slightly altered views are possibly more likely due to growing older than gender related. Perhaps this line of thinking can help me deal with being misgendered. I sometimes feel hurt or angry when people intentionally call me "sir" or "Mr.", despite me communicating my preferences. (I completely understand it happening from family or friends who have known me as both.) Instead of frustration, perhaps I should just adopt the mindset of essence and being, simply responding with a flippant query, "What's in a name?" Or more clearly, "What's in a pronoun?"

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(Shakespeare photo from: http://www.barbdahlgren.com/