My full name is Breanna Loren Lee. That’s (bree-an-nuh) as in Brianna, and (lor-ren) as in Lauren. My mom said that she wanted my name to be unique, hence the different spelling. Growing up, however, I somewhat resented my first name, the way it was spelled, and the burden that fell upon me to constantly (or not so constantly) correct others.

I cannot count the number of times I recall my name being spelled wrong. I rejoice whenever Starbucks manages to spell my name correctly. And it’s always impossible to find my name on those souvenir shop gifts because it’s spelled... “wrong.” Every Christmas time, I would look at all the presents my relatives had gifted me with. To Brianna. To Briana. To Breana. To Breianna. Even after years had past, some of my relatives still do not spell my name right, and some even spell my name differently every year. My mom would just laugh it off, but to me, it always felt odd. Why couldn’t I just have “Breanna” written correctly? Or why couldn’t my relatives realize that they were spelling my name wrong?

Elementary school was another story. Entering a new school in 2nd grade, my parents and I were shocked when they saw that my name had been spelled as “Breonna” in the class picture. But as a little, timid second-grader with an underdeveloped voice, how was I supposed to speak up and tell people who towered over me?

And as elementary school went on, eventually everyone pronounced my name like, bree-on-na rather than bree-an-nuh, as it was intended. And before I knew it, everyone was pronouncing my name wrong. Eventually, it got to the point where I stopped bothering to correct people, because they had known me for so long as bree-on-na, because I thought it would have been weird to have everyone change the pronunciation of my name because, at this point, I responded to and even introduced myself to the wrong pronunciation of my name. Substitutes would always me, “which would you prefer?” and I would respond, “I don’t mind,” even though deep down I really did. But the pronunciation of my name was so prevalent, so deep-rooted within my classmates, teachers, and even to myself that I learned to brush it off to become accustomed to something that wasn’t natural to me. It spread like wildfire and remained.

It goes something like this:

• I introduce myself to someone.
• They pronounce my name wrong.
• I correct them.
• The next time I see them, they pronounce my name wrong again.
• I (attempt) to correct them, but this time, am less firm.
• The next time I see them, it is in passing. They say hi to me and pronounce my name wrong and walk away.
• I don’t have time to correct them again. Great. I think to myself.

And then it would always progress to a point where I felt like it was too late to correct them.

Living under the name of bree-on-na felt as if I was living a double-life, as if I was not truly myself. It’s difficult to explain, but whenever people would call to me, refer to me, say my name, it was as if they were calling someone else. But someone else I would play out, someone I was expected to be. They call Bree-on-na? Oh, that’s not me, but it’s referring to me so I have to respond. And when people spelled my name wrong, it seemed so foreign. That wasn’t me. Even now, when people pronounce my name incorrectly or spell it wrong, my first tendency is to think, “Do you even know me?” No, you really don’t...

Yes, I know that it was my responsibility to correct people, and yes, people aren’t intentionally trying to pronounce my name incorrectly, but when it gets to the point where it’s tiresome to constantly feel the need to correct someone time after time. I would resign myself until it stuck.

However, I don’t think I realized how big of impact the incorrect pronunciation of my name had on me until I came to college, when I was able to start fresh, to properly introduce myself, and to make sure that (mostly) everyone pronounced my name correctly. And at college, I feel free, liberated, and as my true self. I am Breanna. Just Breanna.

Sometimes I wish I could go back in time, with the confidence and assurance I have now to correct people, to let them know who I truly am. And there were times growing up that I wished I could have had a more “normal” or “typical” name, one that was easier to spell, and one that only had ONE pronunciation without any ambiguity. Honestly, that probably would have made my life so much easier, without all the little internal struggles I would face when meeting new people. But at the same time, if I didn’t have my name, I wouldn’t be who I am today.

Many times in my life I have been asked if I ever had wanted to change my name. And there have often been many times when I seriously wanted to. But my name is so closely tied to my own identity; and as I said before, without my name, I would not be who I am today. So to all the people out there who make an effort to pronounce and spell my name correctly now- thank you. You don’t know how much it means to me.