I have a confession. I am obsessed with baby name books. Some people would find this odd, others would say, "You're a writer. Isn't that about normal?" Well, that's true. However, I've also always loved to imagine what I'd name my future kids one day. After all, half of their identities will be in their names. It's something they'll bear the rest of their lives, and if I choose something beautiful like Christiana, they'll adore me forever. Of course, if I choose something hideous, such as Humphrey, they'll go through middle school, being teased mercilessly, and resent me forever, likely changing their name as soon as they hit eighteen...
On second thought, that's a lot of pressure. Maybe I don't love imagining it so much anymore.
When someone asks you who you are, how do you respond? Usually with your name, right? Our names are where we get our identities- the original label, if you will. Strange, isn't it, how with two or more syllables, we automatically know when we are being summoned; unless you, like me, have a moderately biblical name at a small, private, Christian university. Then it gets a bit more difficult.
The point is, names have power. We use them as identifications, we lift them up, we tear them down. And sometimes, we despise having ours come up, whether this is from a desire to not draw attention to ourselves, or whether it's the nature of the association.
You can also learn something about how the other person regards you from what they call you. For example, if someone just says, "Hey, you." you can infer that they can't be bothered to learn your real name, and is just a jerk in general. But if someone addresses you by your name, you can infer that they at least consider you important enough to know what you're called. Whenever someone calls me "Rachel," I know that they consider me important enough to have at least some knowledge of who I am.
Then, if someone calls you by a nickname (i.e., "Rach"), you can infer that you're a bit closer to this person. They know you well enough to feel comfortable using pet names. Likely you've been through some things together and consider them a good friend. Of course, that's if it sounds pleasant to hear the name being said. If it grates at you, likely this person has gotten a bit too friendly, too fast.
And you have the full name. This is usually what you're called when you're in trouble. I remember the dreaded fear that would grip my gut when I was a child and I heard the words, "Rachel Denise Stadeli!" descend from my mother's mouth. What have I done? What did I do? Of course, the person could just be trying to get your attention, but then you may be in trouble for not listening anyway.
What happens if, as previously mentioned, there are multiple people around with the same name as you? We get into the lovely realm of code names. Last year, I was helping backstage with Corban's fall play. There were five Rachels. Five of us. Code names were established. There were things such as Tall Rachel, Small Rachel, Big Rachel, Boss Rachel, names of Dutch Bros drinks, Chekov (yes, that one was me). Things went much smoother from there on out.
In this day and age, everyone is screaming, "Don't label me!" And yet, when we think about it, we're pretty much slapped with a label from day one. Names have power. The power of identification. The power of relation. The power of, in some cases, confusion. So maybe you should take your name more seriously. It says more about you and the people around you than you realize.
