My Name

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.