I was never bothered by my name: Rachel Goldstein. I was named Rachel because both my parents had grandmothers with the name. I actually always liked my name, growing up it was never too common: I was one of only two Rachels in my 250 person high school, so I never thought much of it.

Until I came to Brandeis...

Of course I somewhat expected it, Brandeis being a Jewish school, and me having a super Jewish name. But I never expected it to be like this: pretty much every girl is named Rachel here.

I have learned a few things in the time that I have been here so far: I know to not expect to be the only Rachel in pretty much any room I am in. I know that there will always be another Rachel in any class I am in (which is true in four out of my five classes). I have accepted that I will always get numerous emails and even letters intended for other Rachels. I have understood that I will also get texts intended for other Rachels. I have learned to never answer someone yelling “Rachel” from a distance, because chances are it is not for me.

For example, last Thanksgiving I was leaving campus with my suitcase and I heard someone yell “Bye Rachel!” I turned around, feeling happy, someone was saying bye to me before I left, and of course there was another Rachel walking around with a suitcase embracing a friend. Or the time that I was in Sherman during dinner and someone yelled “Rachel” and I turned around and dropped my plate, only to find out it was not for me.

People are constantly making fun of it. Most of the time, I love making fun of it too. A while ago I made a video with my club, Brandeis Television, about it. Usually when I introduce myself as “Rachel” here, I will laugh and make some remarks about it. “I know, so unique” is usually my go-to. But sometimes it feels embarrassing, like when an employee at the bookstore asks for my name and when I respond they laugh a little. Or when a guy has asked for my number, I will feel a little self-conscious when putting my info into his phone.

To make things worse, my last name is Goldstein. I’ve looked it up, there are five of me at Brandeis. Five. When I went to go apply for my “I9” working forms, I had to specify not only my name, but also where I was from … turns out there are two other Rachel Goldstein’s who go to Brandeis and are from New York. If you Google “Rachel Goldstein Brandeis” I am definitely not the first one to come up, I am actually not even on the first page.

It is just such a Jewish name, and that is not to say I have anything against being Jewish. I mean, I came to Brandeis … But my name is Rachel Goldstein and I go to Brandeis and I’m from the Upper East Sideof Manhattan. I guess there is something so oddly uncomfortable about fitting in perfectly with a stereotype.

Names are weird. We either love them or hate them. Whether you realize it or not, you judge a lot of people based off of their names. You will never truly open up to a person who had the same name as someone who bullied you in Middle School or as your ex, or you might find it weird to be with someone who has the same name as your parent or sibling. Some people strike luck and have plain, ordinary names that they can pass through society with. Others have cool names, others have unfortunate ones — and we judge them for it.

I have realized that prejudgment happens too often. A lot of people actually hate their names because of what they index. We might not see it at Brandeis, but having the name “Rachel Goldstein” can be more than just laughable in some situations. Anti-Semitism is a real thing and I have witnessed it first hand just because of my name. And I am not alone. Different names, which index certain cultural backgrounds, often give people more grief than pride. I had a friend in High School who had a name that was not typically “western” and because of that she felt like an outcast. We live in a world where key chains are sold at amusement parks and airports and not everyone’s name is on them- which has the potential to make people feel really bad.

Now I am not saying we should all go around like Gwenyth Paltrow and name our children “Apple” and “Moses” to solve these issues, but in a sense everyone should be a little more aware before making a joke about something someone cannot really control.

I guess the only moral to this story is that we should stop naming our kids Rachel, like seriously. Spare us all and stop naming your daughters Rachel. Try something unique, like "Sarah."