Wanted: My Name

One can only question so many things at one time. I am now confident in my gender, but frequently no pronoun set or name feels correct.

A name is kind of like a shield from the world. An easy, small, uncomplicated answer to “who/what are you?” that you can hold onto. Having no name is like being out in the world with no skin. Vulnerable and raw. It’s weird that we use a few syllables to refer to the entire amorphous mass that is a person. And when I can’t find the right combination of syllables to refer to myself, it quickly escalates into an existential problem.

Occasionally, when I have no pronouns and no names, it can feel like I’m not supposed to exist. I find myself floundering and drowning in wordless darkness. Wiser people have pointed out that one does not follow from the other, which is a great comfort; I can still take up space without having something convenient to call the space.

In The Name of the Wind, Kvothe names the girl living in the sewers. Auri. Her name glows in her chest. Something to hold onto on the darker days.

I don’t have a name yet. There are a few things I will respond to, but aren’t quite right. But it is okay, and it will be okay. It will come to me sooner or later.

I exist. I am here. I am loved.

Wanted: My Name

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