What's in a name?

Quotable phrases from English literature aside, I would venture to say a whole lot.

Names are tricky. People name us when we're born (usually before), and we rarely have a say in the matter. Some people are named from books, as statements, as homages. Some people, like my sister, are named for family members. Her name carries with it the legacy of our families escape from Eastern Europe and memories of a grandmother we never met. I suppose the hope is that we will grow into our names, like I grew into the incredibly large ears I had as a baby.

For some this works; for others, this system presents a problem. What if your name just doesn't feel right? What if it doesn't reflect who you think you are or who you want to be? Names are salient aspects of our identities. Every time we introduce ourselves to another person, we exchange names. Identities become attached to our names.

Over the past few years, I have been working on understanding my gender identity. It's a complicated process. It's also a process that makes me feel more whole. Integral to this process is finding a comfortable balance between the external presentation/others' perception of my gender and the way I feel about my gender. Since my name is a very obvious, external identity marker, I've ended up thinking on and struggling with it a lot.

Now, I have a very feminine name. At times I'm hesitant to introduce myself with it. My name gets pulled from me because it's my name and people always want to know your name. It doesn't fit me, though, and people tend to notice that. That's why I tend to acquire nicknames that are either androgynous or masculine. As my housemates in Vancouver turned into friends, they told me they weren't really going to call me Larissa anymore. They had come up with a better name. They were right.

My new name just felt better. I felt confident introducing myself. Finally, my name felt more like it belonged to me than the name I had been lugging around for 26 years. It was exciting and empowering to impact my identity in this way.

Initially I only used this new name in my social life and not in my academic one. I introduced myself as 'Lars' to new people but remained 'Larissa' in school. It did not take long for this duality to start feeling uncomfortable and for members of both worlds to start overlapping in complicated ways. There are many people in Vancouver who have only ever known me as Lars and don't even recognize the name 'Larissa' as being associated with me. It's exciting to take control of how I present myself and create this shift; however, it's also a bit overwhelming.

When I used to think about changing my name, what stopped me was always my fear of permanency (a constant fear that I have regarding almost everything save for, very surprisingly, tattoos). I am afraid of 1) ultimately changing my mind about the name I choose 2) the way other people (mostly people from my past) will react and 3) what kind of statement it is regarding my gender identity. Changing my name has always felt so decisive, and, to me, gender is anything but decisive.

Using both names has made salient how detached I feel from 'Larissa'. Though I had struggled with my name for years and never actually felt like it suited me, it wasn't until I had the workable option of another one at my disposal that I could understand what it felt like to be comfortable with my name. There were a few key people in my life who picked up on the ways in which 'Larissa' was not working for me and who helped me gain the confidence to finally take another name. I guess I'd just like to thank them.