My mother never wanted others to give me a nickname. It is obvious that my father’s preference prevailed because the name Rebecca lends itself to innumerable naming possibilities. Most often, I have been given names that combine my first, middle, and last name. Rebecca Lee Weaver can easily be transformed into Becca, Reb, Becs, Reba, Re-Becca, RebeLee, Beave, Beaver, B. Weave, and even Lil’ Weavey. Each name emerges from a relationship I have with another person as a daughter, sister, granddaughter, friend, athlete, peer, or student. These names spark fond memories of my past.
I can hear the way each person pronounces my name. I especially recall the voice of my great-grandmother. She was a feisty woman with a lot of Mennonite gossip to share. She always completed the daily crossword even when her eyes were losing their youth. Her face lit up like Christmas when she opened the door to see my family. The chatter from her mouth stopped when she saw me and she would softly say my name with an extra emphasis on the “Re.” I always knew that I was with loving company when I heard my name pronounced, “Rebecca.” I only need to close my eyes to imagine my host mother in Ayacucho putting her arm around my back and sliding a tin cup of warm quinoa on the table in front of me while firmly saying, “come, Rebe” (“eat, Rebecca”). I was envious of the way she rolled her “r” in a way I never could. Each name and its vocal sound is associated with a person that has contributed to who I am today as Rebecca Lee Weaver.
My parents wanted a Biblical name, but they chose a spelling different from the Old Testament Rebekah. My name means “to bind.” In the past, I have reflected on the meaning of my name and the ways in which I am bound to groups of people. This binding does not discriminate against cultures or biological ties, but instead celebrates the differences that we have. I am bound to childhood church friends playing games for hours on bus rides, my high school touring choir cherishing the sounds of our voices blending in a European cathedral, and my Bolivian host family showing me the value in living from moment to moment. These are just a few of the many people with whom I am bound. My name reminds me of these connections and the ties we hold.
Though my name is not a rare, one-of-a-kind first name, it is through my many nicknames that I feel at home. Each one stems from creative personal relationships that are meaningful in their own way. Each nickname contributes to my understanding of myself and the beauty of taking something ordinary and making it personal and unique. There is something special about that.
First, I'd like to say it is awesome we share the same middle name: Lee. Rock on, Lee Dizzle! (You can add that to your list).
ReplyDeleteI read your phrase "I can hear each way each person pronounces my name" and I realized as I read on that we each have memories to the way our names are said to us. I recall my name being musically sung and theatrically pronounced when I was in elementary school. Do you have any memories from your childhood in which your name was said in this way? What images does a pronunciation like this fill your head with?
Also, as stated in Lavonne's post, I am slightly jealous of your multi-cultural experience, too. The most "multi-cultural" I ever got thus far in life before Goshen College was interaction with a British adoptive grandmother. She'd always pronounce my name as "Zek-ri". Not so much a term of endearment, but the way she said my name made me laugh.
Finally, I would much agree with you that everyone feels most at home when their name takes on a new "nickname" form. Are there other places that you hear your name (not in nickname form), in which you feel at home (i.e. church)?
I can really identify with your mother not wanting to give her kids names that can be made into nicknames. My mom was the exact same way. I think it's really interesting that rather than what people call you, you can hear in your mind HOW they said it. I think we so often forget how important tone of voice, pronunciation and inflection are--especially in a time when so much of our interactions take place non-audibly, like on the internet, or in this post.
ReplyDeleteI know you as Becca, but I noticed you introduced yourself in class as Rebecca. Interesting how we feel that full names are somehow necessary upon first meetings/introducing ourselves...
I can definitely identify with your mother not wanting nicknames. My mom was the exact same way. My mom steered my dad away from Jennifer and Victoria because she didn't want me to have a nickname.
ReplyDeleteI can also identify with hearing how people say your name. Krista isn't something that most people can pronounce differently. It is pretty straightforward. However, my time in the Dominican Republic opened my ears to a new way of saying my name because of the Spanish influence. My name was being pronounced in a whole new way: an "l" was even added to the end of my name somehow. The way I hear my name pronounced allows me to see which part of my life a person is from and what their relationship is to me. I can definitely identify with feeling the loving welcome when you hear your named pronounced with such enthusiasm. It makes me miss my host family.
I like Lil' Weavy. I think that is a funny/cool nickname. I wonder why people called you that. Is it because you got a little hip-hop in you. Hearing your name, I can see all the possibilities in creating a nickname. I think every Rebecca I have known, I have called them Becca or Becky.
ReplyDeleteMy mother was the opposite. She always called me by my nickname. Mostly everybody called me my nickname. Also, the way people pronounce my name says something about who a person is. Now, mostly everybody mispronounces it. It is to the point where I have to mispronounce my name for people to understand.
One more point, I like how you said that through you nicknames you reminisce about the relationships with people.
My name is short, and not many nicknames come out of it. Rikki turns to Rik when I'm with my friends, and that's the extent of the nicknames derived from my own name. And I understand what you mean about the way someone says your name connecting you to a person. I can hear the way my grandmother used to say "Rikki" and then I feel like she's with me. I can remember the way my host mom in China called me Richie, because it was the easiest way for her to sound out my name. My name is Rikki, but there are so many different ways to say it, and the way it's said means something not only to me, but to the person saying it. In a way, hearing my name is like shaking someone's hand or giving someone a hug: it's meaningful, and of course, it's me.
ReplyDeleteOh nicknames. I can't lie and say that I've had as many as you, but I've always found them interesting.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was 12 or 13, I suddenly decided that I wanted to be called "Nate" rather than "Nathan." The transition was weird at first, but I guess I decided that "Nate" was cooler or something.
Now, I've actually decided a preference for "Nathan." I have found it to be a little less common than "Nate," and also sounds more trustworthy or something.
I am curious to know which of your nicknames seem to lend themselves better to particular social situations. How do you generally introduce yourself, and does this change depending on what your perception of the person is, or your social context?
You've got some food family stories and a whole catalog of nicknames here! You make a good point--that nicknames arise out of relationships, and it appears that you are blessed with many good ones. I love the way you describe your association with the tones of voice people using these nicknames to address you. The details in your descriptions really bring this piece to life.
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