What's in a name?

I carried my given name with me for about 25 years. It was what I was called even before I was a born. It was printed on my birth certificate. It was the name I learned to write as a child. It was the name on my diploma and my B.A. degree. It was printed on my school awards, essays, the first piece of writing I had published, and on my first license. It was written on opening pages of books, in letters to friends, on certificates and forms. Quite simply, it was me.

...That is, up until two months ago. On May 15th, 2014 I went to court and had my last name legally changed to my great-grandmother's maiden name. This is something I considered doing for many years. Graduating with my M.A. degree, having access to some money for legal fees, and starting my teaching career made me think the moment was finally right.

There were multiple, complicated reasons for this name change that certainly expand beyond the scope of one blog entry. This decision is a product of years of conversation, research, and especially personal introspection. I'll try, however, to briefly explain my top three reasons:

1) To honor my female heritage: For good or for bad, I know I am who I am today because of the women in my life. My mother, my Yiayia, my aunt, and some of my close female cousins all deeply shaped and influenced me. While I am blessed to know some great men, it is ultimately the women who "made" me. If a name reflects who we are, then it is only appropriate for it to reflect them.

2) To honor my Greek heritage: Although I am also German, I have always identified strongly and passionately as Greek, mostly because it is the culture that was most impressed upon me while growing up. I was closer to my mother's side of the family, and I deeply connected to my Greek culture's love of things like food, education, politics, and especially, family. My legal name is undeniably Greek now, and while it's certainly not the easiest to pronounce, I feel proud to carry and display that heritage to the world.

3) To specifically honor my Yiayia (grandmother): I am lucky to say that I haven't lived a single day on this earth without my grandmother. My "Yiayia" has lived with me since I was a baby, and has been a part of my daily life since the moment I first drew breath. She has been one of my greatest friends, my second-parent, teacher, and role-model. Unfortunately, she was not so lucky herself; her mother--my great grandmother-- died of a sudden heart attack when my Yiayia was 21 years old. It is a loss that she continues to deeply feel, even sixty five years later. My name change is to honor her, as well as the woman who she loved and lost so tragically young.

4) To create a new identity for myself: Ultimately, a name (especially a last name) is narrative. It carries a (sometimes good, sometimes bad) story. It connects you to something beyond yourself. It ties you to people, to places, to cultures, and traditions. At this stage in my life, lots of people are changing their names through marriage. They've had the pleasure of living 20some odd years with their birth name, and then establishing a new name as they start a family. Putting aside the fact that I am single, I always knew, for both political and personal reasons, that if I got married, I would not take my husband's name (I realize that this is not a popular opinion, but unless both people are willing to hyphenate, I don't believe that women should change their names). Despite this stance on marriage, however, I did nonetheless feel a desire to join my married friends and establish a name for myself beyond what I was given at birth.

And the time felt right. While there is still much growth to be done, at this point in my life I feel more confident, more peaceful, more sure of my desires, hopes, fears, and strengths than ever before. I wanted a new name to reflect that confidence, assurance, stability, and "meness" (a la Toni Morrison). I decided that choosing a name for myself--a name not granted by my parents or predicted by the spouse I one day choose--was perhaps one of the most independent, personal decisions I could ever make for myself. I could make a conscious choice on my own about something that I would carry with me (literally) to the grave. Ironically, names are our greatest identifiers--they declare to the world, "This is me"--yet, we rarely have much say in them. I feared what Desdemona once said: "I [could not be] the meaning of a name I did not choose." Quite simply, I wanted a choice. For me, choosing my name and having a say in something that important, was not only a way for me to declare what I was called, but also who I was.

I have chosen my name, and I have chosen my meaning. And that is me.

Small Dreams Actualized

Last week I registered for my last semester of course work for my MA degree (after that, it's the thesis). Along with my own courses, I also officially registered for a Teaching Assistant position in an undergraduate level African American literature course. The chance to be a TA as an MA student was one of the main reasons why I chose my particular graduate program. I grew even more excited about the opportunity when I learned that our university's resident African American literature scholar heard about my work on Toni Morrison and was willing to work with me.

For some, a TA position seems like a very insignificant step in higher education. For me, however, it feels like a small piece of my dream being actualized. Ever since I was on a sophomore in college I have wanted to go to graduate school so that I could teach in higher education. Since then, I have faced immense discouragement and doubt over things such as my ability to truly "stand out" in a program or the difficult job market, but I have never doubted my desire to teach and my sincere belief that, if given the opportunity to run a classroom, I could do a good job and be a great teacher. While all of the other outside factors worried (and continue to worry) me, I am happy to say that my desire to teach literature in higher education has not.

Getting a TA position then, made me feel like I took one step--a small one--towards that classroom. It made me feel that one small piece of my dream was being validated. It made me feel that in some way all of the work, mental agony, and fear had been worth it because I was a little closer to my final destination.

Ultimately, we don't know where we'll end up. But, in the pursuit of a dream we all need those small encouragements that are enough to push us on. Hopefully we'll push on enough to get to the next one that pushes us on again. I don't know what the end holds. Today though, I am encouraged, because a year ago I was worried I would not get into grad school, and today I am signed up for my final courses and my first experience instructing a college-level classroom. I couldn't ask for more.

One Month Update

It has been exactly one month since I started graduate school. I have not blogged mostly because there has been much I have been processing and experiencing that I didn't feel I had the ability to put into actual words. Living in a new place, starting a new school, and a new job were major changes in themselves, but even they were somewhat eclipsed by a recent family situation that has left me rather imbalanced. Until I am able to write something more profound, I will instead offer a basic update on the last 30 days.

I am currently taking two courses: Lit Theory & The Profession of Literature, and Women & Skepticism: Early American Literature. So far both of these courses have been difficult (especially the reading load and level of writing), but also incredibly rewarding. The graduate school classroom has offered me a safe place where like-minded people strive to understand and challenge the complex ideas within our field. It has only been four weeks, and I already feel that I have learned so much about my discipline.

A part from my schooling, I am enjoying my part time job as the head graduate assistant in the university's Gender and Women's Studies department. It is different from my work in the Women's Center during undergrad in that it is an academic department rather than a resource center, but it seems to do a decent job at offering programs that cater to both activism and academics. I help manage the major/minor (which is relatively small at this point), as well as plan/coordinate events that relate to gender and women's issues. Tomorrow, for instance, we have an event that is a joint lecture and poetry reading that focuses on Anna Douglass. I am slowly being given more responsibilities and am especially looking forward to the opportunity of leading a pop-culture book club for undergraduate students. I'm starting with Fifty Shades of Grey. Go big or go home, right?

In closing, a quote in one of my theoretical articles found great resonance with me: "Although time can always be studied scientifically and broken up into equal units, time is also always lived subjectively. As we know, one minute of routine work is lived very differently than a moment of a passionate kiss." Time has always perplexed me, but that mystification has now only grown more profound. In many ways, the last 30 days have felt like years; yet in another breath, like days. For the relatively short amount of time it has been, I have already learned and experienced so much. It is difficult for me to imagine all of what is still to come.

(Until then, I extend an ever-grateful "thanks" to my loved ones who have supported me, cheered for me, prayed for me, listened to my complaints, and stood by me as I continue to adjust. It is no exaggeration to say that I survive--and have any chance at succeeding--everyday in the classroom and in the office because of the people who offer me such steadfast support.)