Namely Me
Many times, I’ve dropped, revised and rejected my birth name. It’s been a vibe.
Laura, my first name that I dropped during a fresh start in a new city at the age of fourteen. The summer of 1980 was a very difficult time for me, and I wished to be anyone besides myself. For the first few weeks at my new school in Savannah, I introduced myself with my middle name. I rarely remembered the switch or answered to it which created more problems. So, I returned the name given to me at birth. My namesake is the main character from the 1965 melodrama, The Sandpiper which is more known for the award-winning ballad, “The Shadow of Your Smile” than cinematic achievements. Mom was pregnant with me when she saw the film on Bell Blvd. in Bayside Queens. The main character, Laura, is the object of an all-consuming, periphery love, the extra in extra-marital. I can’t help but wonder, when she adorned my existence in the energy of that character, if she also jinxed me to a high frequency of otherness.
Elizabeth, the second name was after my grandmother, I only came to know this year, at the age of 58. Had I known, I would’ve felt connected throughout my life to my beloved matriarch, Elaine Elizabeth. In these recent days of knowingness and my creative endeavors in threading my lineage with love, I am grateful to know the whole story. She was given that name after “Estate Elizabeth,” the property her father owned on St. Thomas. All my life, I thought I was named for the property and thus rejected the nomenclature that I’d associated with my maternal great-grandfather who was, anything but great and everything I hate about patriarchy and oppression.
Phoenix! Ah, yes. She rises, renewed, adorned in wisdom and the promise of forever’s flight of fanciful grace, self-faith, and true love. Oh, the many ashes, resurrections,’ ashes, resurrections’ and on and on and on and onward, I’ve known, and so, I gave this name to myself during my third divorce as a gift with purchase. Phoenix transforms ashes into alters, and I, mud into magic and thus we are kindred entities of renewal.
Power. When giving my name for reservations, appointments and any time it’s required, I say “Power, as in I got the...” Often people smile or laugh, rarely people miss the reference, and on really good days, people start singing the song, and I join them. Sometimes, I’ll say “as in women’s power” or “power to the people,” mostly though, I quote the 1990 rap by SNAP! It’s fun to have these mini dance parties at cash registers and checkout windows in otherwise docile environments.
Thrice married and as many marital names adopted, it wasn’t until after my third divorce my eyes did see the ways I’d given away my power, literally. Instead of the power of two, I applied trauma-math in these marriages, losing more than half of myself and giving the remains to the betterment of my “significant” other. One plus one equals more for him and none of me. My birth father bestowed this name upon me, as is done with archaic ways, women taking names given, further diluting the matriarch’s lineage. For a time, I contemplated dropping Power and using Phoenix as surname. Then it struck me how giving away my power would still employ trauma-math and deplete the sum of my being. I’ve long moved on from giving away or up on myself.
I arrived at this earth-space in Queens on the same night when Comet Ikeya-Seki passed through the skies over New York City. It was the brightest Comet in 100 years, the New York Herald Tribune paper headline read, “where and When to Watch Brilliant Intruder in the Sky.” Think I’ll embrace my high frequency of otherness, keep all my names and ride the light.