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It’s time for another edition of SE(N)O, an essay series on A+ for personal stories we wish we could tell on the accessible-to-our-employers-and-everyone-we’ve-ever-known mainsite, but can’t for personal and professional reasons.
For most of the first 25 years of my 28 years on earth, everybody treated me like a man. Well, like a gay man, because a lot of people thought I was gay, but still — like a man. It’s hard to shake that. When I write about my life before I came out, I’m afraid people will read that writing and imagine me as a guy, like how I imagine someone doing the things they’re describing when I’m reading about their past. So I want to talk to you about my name, but doing so summons a lot of fear — that you’ll see me as less of a woman when I do.
Names have a lot of magic in them. In folklore, the idea of knowing someone or something’s true name is a powerful one, and someone sharing it with you is them at their most vulnerable. Many Catholic parents, mine included, name their children after saints of people from the Bible. Our obsession with names doesn’t end there: next, a Catholic will go through the sacrament of Confirmation, becoming a full member of the church, at which point we chose another saint we want to emulate and we take their name. Names are bigger than the letters that make them up. They fit an entire personality inside them, an entire history, they fit an entire soul.
The journey to finding and deciding on my real name, Melinda Valdivia Rude, took about four years.
The first name I wanted for myself was Madeline. It had long been my favorite “girl name” so it was an obvious first choice. Unfortunately, it’s also one of my oldest friend’s middle name. I’d hoped she’d remain my friend after I came out (and she did), and I didn’t want to add another layer of weirdness to an already-sure-to-be-weird occasion by adding the possibility that she’d wonder if I’d named myself after her. So, after over a year of going back and forth, I moved on.
Next, I thought about naming myself after one of my favorite writers, like Shirley, Dorothy, Flannery or Sandra. I liked some of those names more than others (I don’t think I look like much of a Shirley), but even the ones I liked the most never felt comfortable. All of them felt like I was just trying to imitate a woman, like I was trying to copy a woman I looked up to and admired instead of being my own woman. I know that’s a deeply flawed logic, but when you’re a trans woman who doesn’t know any other trans women in real life and grew up being taught by the media and news that trans women are just men pretending to be women, you often get stuck on some really shaky logical ground.
So, onwards: I came to really like the idea of coming out being a way to reconnect with my Mexican heritage, and after years of complaining to my parents for not giving me a more “Mexican” name, I had a chance to change that. I considered Ximena and Guadalupe and a few others. I really liked this idea and thought it could actually work until it hit me that changing my first name also meant changing my initials and I didn’t want to lose that. As much as I couldn’t stand people using my first name, I strangely loved my initials.
My whole life I’d been using my initials way more than any kid should… which I now realize may have been ‘cause I wanted to avoid using my birth name. The initials “MCR” are so much more gender neutral than, you know… Matthew.
Whew.
So, there it is, and now I’m gonna take a break for a minute.
I already sat with the last word of that paragraph blank for about ten minutes before I finally wrote in the name. Just looking at it right now, it looks so ugly. I know it’s just a name, that it’s not really my name, that it has no power over me. But also, honestly? It kinda does.
I have to use it on legal forms, which makes me wince. When people slip up and call me by my old name, it hits my ears like a thud, like a hammer smashing against the side of my head. It literally sounds louder, like it’s being yelled directly into my ear. Sometimes I get so stuck on hearing the name used in reference to me that I don’t even hear the next few sentences. It hurts, it can ruin my whole day.
But I’m here to explore things that might be painful, power through them, and get to the other side, so let’s get back into it.
The name I eventually settled on was Matilde (because I liked the way it’s spelled), and by “settled on” I do mean settled. I wasn’t happy with the name, and to be honest, the main reason I went with it was because it would be an easier transition for my friends. Let me say that again. I was trying to minimize my transition to make it easier on other people. Just a quick message for all the trans people reading this, you don’t have to do this. It’s okay to do this thing for yourself. You don’t have to sacrifice your own happiness to make your transition easier for other people. But that’s what I did.
I started going by Matilde whenever I was with all my friends. It was definitely a thousand times better than them calling me by my birth name, but it wasn’t actually good. It was like every time someone wanted to talk to me or about me in the past, they would punch me with a pair of brass knuckles and now they were just flicking me really hard on the arm.
Eventually, I got tired of the constant pain in the arm, and so I decided to change my name —again. This made me nervous. I’d already committed to one name, and I was afraid that all my friends would think that I didn’t know what I was doing. They wouldn’t be totally wrong to think that, I mean, I didn’t really know what I was doing. I was stumbling in the dark, trying to find a name that fit.
What ultimately brought me to decide on my present name was my family. I’ve got a really strong connection to my family, especially my mother’s side. I’m lucky that they’ve always been extremely supportive of me, including my coming out as trans — I’m actually closer with my mom now than I was before coming out and I’d already started using my mother’s maiden name, Valdivia, as a part of my nom de plume. So, one day I just texted her, “Before I was born, and before the doctor told you I was going to be a boy, did you pick out a girl name for me?”
“I always liked the name Melinda.”
Now there was a name! Melinda. I could keep my first initial but wouldn’t be reminded of my old name at all. I could write and say this name aloud and it really felt natural. My mom chose it, this was the name she’d thought of when she thought about me growing inside of her belly. I fit inside this name.
The only thing left was making sure people would say my name right. Now that I’m in charge of my own name, I’m sure as hell not going to let people mangle it. “May-LEEN-duh,” not “Muh-lihn-duh.” Back when I was a 16-year-old high school student at the Idaho Hispanic Youth Symposium, I met this girl named Melisa, pronounced “May-Lees-uh,” not “Meh-lihs-uh.” Whenever someone tried to pronounce it the standard (White) American way, she would stop them mid sentence and correct them. She was the first person I ever saw take control of their name like that, and it stuck with me. I wanted to be able to confidently correct others when they got my name wrong. Now I can.
I also started trying out nicknames. I wanted to walk around in my name, wear it in, make it comfortable. I went for the obvious choice, Mel. If it worked for Scary Spice, why not me? But there was something a little off. Once again, it was my Mom who came to my rescue. We were emailing back and forth when she was trying to write “Mel,” but somehow (I’m still not sure how she missed the key this bad) she ended up writing “Mey.” From where I was sitting, it looked like my mom had just come up with a cute nickname for me, and one that reinforced the way I wanted to pronounce it. My name was starting to get a history, a personality. It was starting to feel really, really comfortable. I really felt like I was hitting my stride with this whole name thing.
Now that I know my true name I feel like I really have power over myself. That’s a big feeling, finally having autonomy. Melinda Valdivia Rude. This is who I was meant to be. This fits. Hearing it isn’t like a punch in the arm or a flick to the wrist, it’s like linking arms with the whole rest of the world and confidently walking into the future.
very sweet! I’m glad your mom could help you locate your name.
i adore you Mey <3
Mey, you are wonderful and this is wonderful and I am so moved and inspired by it. Thank you.
This. is. beautiful.
Thank you so much for sharing this, Mey! I love that your mother was able to help you discover your real name. I think that as a parent, a name is one of the first choices you make on your child’s behalf, and it must be hard to know that you got it wrong. I don’t feel like it’s a trans person’s responsibility to manage their loved ones’ emotional responses to the transition, but I think including her in this way not only helped you find your true name, but was a wonderful gesture of love and respect for her.
Years ago during my first failed attempt at transitioning I started going by a name I loved but the drama and vitriol that became associated with it when I tried to come out the first time ruined it for me. The fact that there were three other people in my immediate circle of friends who already had the name was kind of a bonus reason.
I’ve always been terrible at naming things, including myself apparently, so it was a huge pain trying to figure out what to call myself- one day a friend of mine was like “look, it’s just to weird to keep calling you *guy name* so until you pick a damn name your Rebecca.” Somehow that seemed to fit so I went with it.
My father-in-law has the same name that I was assigned at birth, although I think my spouse is the only one in the family who actually knows that. I was worried that hearing that name all the time would be triggering, but it’s actually been nice and a great way for me to feel like I’ve been able to disassociate with the name by having an important person in my life to think of when I hear the name. I will admit though that sometimes old habits die hard and I have on occasion found myself starting, for just a half a second, to look up when someone calls his name. That inevitably leads to bouts of dysphoric self loathing but luckily it seems to happen less and less with exposure.
Thank you for sharing your name journey, Mey. My partner is currently trying to find a name that she feels good with, and it’s such a unique, personal, and vulnerable process.
Your writing is beautiful, and I always love reading your stories. <3
This is such a great piece! Names are so, so hard and it’s so beautiful that you managed to make this a way to connect even deeper to your family and your heritage. Also, is that a new profile picture? I love that lipstick color on you! (or it’s not new and i am oblivious)
Thanks so much! And it is a pretty new profile picture, only a couple weeks old I think? And that’s my new favorite lipstick!
This was wonderful to read. I could definitely relate to your journey. <3
you are so great.
Thanks! I hope you don’t think it’s weird that I almost had the same name as you.
omg no i LOVE that. though i do really want to know if you would have pronounced it as “mad-eh-LYN” or mad-eh-LINE.”
I actually thought about that all the time when I was thinking that that was the name I was going to choose! My friend pronounces it the first way, so that’s how I learned the name, but I thought a lot about going the second way because that way it would be pronounced differently and it maybe wouldn’t be so weird.
ooh neat. it is a name that can lend itself to pronunciation predicaments. FTR I pronounce it the second way: “Mad-eh-LINE,” to rhyme with “in an old house in Paris, covered in vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines…”
This is very beautiful, and so is your name.
This is so beautiful. And I love the thought of taking control of a name. I get called Hannah a lot, and I’m never sure how or when to correct people (I am way not brave enough to pull a Melisa). My name is a huge part of my cultural heritage and I love it deeply, but I still haven’t been able to really own it and be proud of it. So thank you for this!
Now I am wondering how you would pronounce your name? Is it a silent H?
My name gets mispronounced in all kinds of different ways to the point where I almost don’t pay attention anymore, but if I do feel like correcting someone I usually just smile and tell them not to feel bad because mostly everybody gets it wrong.
It’s pronounced Hah-na, with a soft “a” sound… it means “flower” in Japanese :)
Pretty!
It’s sweet, heartfelt writing like this that makes me feel so privileged to know you, Mey. Your name is beautiful, and I love that your mother had such a big role in choosing it. Something about queer women writing about how they love their mothers always makes me feel so much.
This was beautiful and if we had a regular series of trans/genderqueer people (I know those aren’t mutually exclusive but I also want to include the people who do identify as genderqueer but don’t identify as trans) writing about how they chose their true names, I would read the shit out of that.
Same! I love names and name meanings and name stories. One of the only things that has ever made me feel like I might want to have kids would be getting the opportunity to name them, tbh.
Gosh, this was lovely. Thank you.
This is so great and it’s awesome to read these details about it!
Stay out of this Pete. (Pete’s my sibling)
I’m just teasing them.
THIS IS CUTE
SO CUTE!
Thank you so, so much to everyone for the super nice and lovely comments. I was really nervous publishing this and had been sitting on it for a few months before I finally decided to tell anyone about it. So I’m really happy that these are the reactions it’s getting. Thank you.
Lovely story about a lovely name!
Lovely, just lovely!
I love hearing the stories behind people’s names, and this was a lovely one. Thank you for sharing!
Thank you so much for sharing this, Mey! You wrote it so beautifully and honestly. I have a (weird?) tendency to really visualize any/everything that I read and the idea of you getting slapped with a name that isn’t you and represents you as someone you aren’t literally made me wince.
Names do have SO much power and meaning and we truly underestimate it. I’m impressed and happy that you faced down all the fears in the way and persisted until you found your name.
Thank you so much for this.
I love that the name your mom picked was so right. Thanks so much for sharing your story
That’s such a beautiful story, I loved how your name came about through the connection between you and your mother.
Thank you so much for sharing this story with us! <3
Such a fantastic piece, Mey! Thank you for sharing it.
I loved this!
This was lovely. Thank you.
You are a badass for writing about such a difficult subject. Also, what a cute name and nickname. Your mom did good.
Thank you for this lovely article. I really like hearing about people’s names and the stories behind them.
This was a lovely, beautiful read. Thank you.
Thank you so much for sharing this Mey! I have been supporting my partner (who is trans) as he searched for a new name that fits him, and he’s finally found one (middle name and all!) after a year and a half of talking over a hundred plus options. He too was really attached to his initials for family reasons and ended up finding a solution from his mom. Next step is the courthouse to make it official. Thank you for sharing such an important and powerful piece. Thank you.
Beautiful story, Mey. I feel honored to read it. And I’m glad to know how to pronounce your name properly, too :)
Names have a lot of power. Thank you so much for sharing this story!
This may or may not be related to other things as well but this story has me wiping tears from my eyes. I’m so damn happy that you are able to walk into your future confidently! It’s making me emotional. Thank you for sharing this piece.
This is one of the essays I joined A+ in order to read. Names have power; I especially love how you note that the nickname Mey added a sense of history. Beautiful. And as someone whose first and last names are frequently mispronounced and misspelled, I appreciated the part about the girl who took control of her name by always correcting folks. Sometimes I don’t do this because I feel like I’m being silly, but it really does matter.
Mey, this is so wonderful. Names are so intricately tied with identity, and I love contemplating how powerful it is when we take charge of our names. And “Mey” suits you so well, it’s the perfect sound and has a beautiful symmetry and it’s just so YOU. Thanks for sharing this :)
Beautifullllll.
I can also relate to finding someone who corrected people about their name’s pronunciation and having that stick. Also at 16, I went to a nerd camp [basically] and there was another Puerto Rican girl. While I said my country’s name, my own name, and other Spanish words in an Anglicized fashion [since we were all talking in English there], she was very clear to never do that. Her name was LAURA, not “Loh-rah.” When she said where she was from, she said Puerto Rico in Spanish.
People were fascinated by our different approaches to this [she was also pro-independence while I was more middle-ground on that whole PR status situation] and YEARS later is when I realized why that stuck with me, and why I wanted to make sure to do that too. While at the time it felt appropriate to just do an Anglicized pronunciation because that’s the language we were speaking, and it felt polite to not correct people, years later I really understood the history of colonization and forceful Anglicizing Puerto Rico. Years later, I understood more about that history, and the racialized ways Anglo Americans deal with “foreign names” of POC vs. of White foreigners. Years later, I understood the importance of taking up linguistic space, of giving words their original pronunciations, of disrupting the comfort of those who bludgeon language with their devaluing of certain cultures. I was able to critically engage with the complicated relationship the island has to the mainland U.S., and the fucked up history of assimilation/acculturation and valuing of Whiteness/U.S.-ness. While I deploy that strategically now, and sometimes will indeed not code-switch, I try to as much as possible and see the deep value of such seemingly small actions.
<33
There’s this old quote, I don’t know who said it but my brother once paraphrased it in a book for me.
A person has three names:
-the name their parents give them
-the name that others know them by
-and the name that they find for themselves