Zainah Gadoui 711
ELA My Name
In Arabic, my name means good and
beautiful. I don’t like my name. I don’t want to be defined by it. My name is
awkward. Nobody can say it. Nobody can spell it. Different can be good, but
being so far out there that no one can see you isn’t a good thing.
My name came from nowhere. Nobody in my
family had it before me. It was just suggested because it was pretty. My
parents were deciding between my name and another one. Ayeesha. It was my
grandmother’s name. If I got Ayeesha, at least it would mean something to me
and my family. Zainah. It means nothing to us.
Zainah reminds me of cool, stormy,
summer nights. I can see it now. Dark grey and black clouds. Slightly
drizzling. Purple lightning bolts lighting up the sky. Cool and humid. You
don’t know what is happening.
If I had the chance to change my
name, I would do it in a heartbeat. Without question, I would change Zainah to
Ana. But I wouldn’t change it on my birth certificate. I wouldn’t make it
official. Even if I do change my name, I will always have been born a Zainah. Even
though the name Ana means nothing to my family or me, at least people can see
and spell Ana.
