Growing up with a name that wasn’t the conventional Sarah or Katie definitely had its highs and lows. I knew exactly when a substitute teacher was attempting to pronounce my name. They’d pause, make a weird face at their sheet of names and slowly begin saying “mmm.” I’d stop them dead in their tracks and say, “it’s Maeve and yeah I’m here.” I thought by the end of 10 years in the same school system, my teachers and peers would know how to pronounce my name let alone spell it right. When I received my senior year yearbook on the morning of graduation, I wasn’t too surprised to see my name spelled 'Meave' instead of Maeve. It summed up my entire high school experience all too well.
Meave', 'Meeve and Mauve are the banes of my existence. I once had a teacher who called me Meeve for the whole school year just because I couldn’t get up the courage to tell him otherwise. My parents and friends call me Meeve just to annoy me. Most of the time, when the barista at Starbucks asked for my name I’d say “Maeve. M, A, E, V, E”, making it exceptionally easy to write on my white grande sized cup. But even with spelling out my name, I’d get my drink back with a M and a jumbled mess of letters. And for the record, it's pronounced mave, but please put that extra ‘E’ in there when you spell it. The Maeves around the world would greatly appreciate it.
If you’re reading this and feel for me, chances are, you understand my pain with having a rare and unique name. There’s plenty of us out there who feel the same frustrations. Almost everyone with an Irish name will understand. After all, my mother has suffered through the same thing for more than double my lifetime. Her name, Clodagh ( pronounced clo-dah) has caused a lot of confusion as well. For more than a year into my relationship with my boyfriend, he thought my mom’s name was pronounced clodog. I wonder how many other people have thought the same thing? At least I’ve got a great nickname for her now.
I’ve recently began ordering my drinks at Starbucks and making reservations at restaurants under a different name—Mary. This name makes everything so much simpler but makes me feel a little shameful. My parents gave me that name, and I’m just tossing it to the side. Despite my ongoing complaining of people never getting my name right, I do love it. It sets me apart and never fails to produce a genuinely surprised or interested reaction from people.
Maeve is a traditional Irish name, meaning “she who intoxicates.” The name is rooted in the old Irish legend of Queen Maeve of Connacht, the mythical queen known for her strength and beauty; I’m not boasting I promise. I’ve got to be thankful that my parents didn’t give me the traditional Irish spelling, either Meadhbh or Meabh. Having one of those names would be a whole different ballgame.
At least I know when I go back to Ireland, the immigration officer will always know how to pronounce my name, boosting my morale until the next year. I’ve come to terms with the fact that my name will never appear on a keychain, mug or nameplate at a tacky souvenir shop. I know better than to waste my time twirling the display around frantically looking for my name. I’m still going to get that confused look for the rest of my life but I’m just happy to be embracing my Irish heritage, even if it baffles everyone.
