|
The same
inaudible gasp that everyone has when they read my name
escapes her lips and I feel… ashamed. Everyone in the class
turns to look at me with pity on their faces, as if my name
is a disease that I am forever infected with. I feel
frustrated and slowly open my lips to respond, the same way
I respond to everyone, with a sigh and a fake laugh to make
the situation less awkward; then I sadly state: “It’s fine
you don’t have to pronounce it correctly.” I sit in my chair
defeated and frustrated.
My name
is Tamunodiyepriye. When I was younger, I always got upset
when people would constantly ask me questions about it.
“Why would your parents EVER name you that?!” or a
condescending, “Wow, don’t you wish you had a different
name?” The shame and discomfort I constantly suffered
because of my name started to seep into my daily life and I
noticed myself becoming more reserved as the years went by.
My 13-year-old self was being drained of what little
self-esteem I had.
As I grew
older and visited different places around the world, I
started to notice that in many cultures, a name is a
critical part of a person’s identity and is selected
carefully after much thought and sometimes even rituals. As
a Nigerian-American, I am stuck between two cultures. I am
too Nigerian to be American and too American to be a true
Nigerian.
I came to
realize that this was why I struggled with my name. I
disliked it then because it was different when all I wanted
was to blend in. Being exposed to different cultures, I
soon began to realize the true importance of my name – it
tells the story of my identity; as a intrinsically motivated
young woman filled with energy, curiosity and potential. I
slowly began to actually embrace my name and my culture.
My name
unlocks a plethora of information about my life, my rich
culture and family history. Its uniqueness heralds my story
and provides a glimpse into my personality. My name reveals
my Nigerian heritage. It commemorates the joy that my
parents had when I was born. My birth was a true miracle
because of all the complications along the way. Yet, I was
born healthy and smiling. My grandmother shouted out in
gratitude and jubilation, “Tamunodiyepriye,” which in the
Kalabari language means “gift from God.”
It is
ironic that I never thought of my name as a gift until I
started to appreciate its significance and a huge impact it
has made in my life. The once shy girl who barely made a
peep in class became the confident girl who’s always curious
to find answers to the whys of the world. I finally learned
to embrace my name instead of constantly trying to hide it.
Today, my
rich heritage symbolizes who I am and I am proud of it. Now,
anytime someone asks me my name, I stand tall and
confidently say “I am Tamunodiyepriye.” People still gasp in
shock, but I just tell them that my name has meaning and
that it signifies my true identity.
Ed. Note: Tamunodiyepriye Ngo is a senior at Notre Dame
Academy. She submitted this essay with her college
applications this year. She has been accepted at Vanderbilt,
Northwestern, Washington University, Boston University,
Boston College, Case Western, Ohio State, Michigan State and
Ohio University. She will be attending Northwestern
University in the fall.
|
