I used to hate telling people my middle name because it would launch them into a series of questions. Questions about myself, about my family, what languages I speak, why I don’t look a certain way. I wondered if other people felt that way through their life or came to a realization halfway through.
Being able to accept your identity is a life-long process, especially when a name is the first thing people ask for when meeting or on an important document. Middle names in particular can be a connector for all sections of a person’s life, whether it’s religion, ethnicity, family, or expression. But it seems as if society has set a certain cloud over middle names, making it all under the individual’s choice of choosing pride versus shame.
I remember talking to Erinn Doherty (’25) in middle school about our middle names one day during recess. With pride, she answered “Faith”.
Doherty is Catholic, and although she isn’t from a super-religious family, she has always felt connected to her religion through her name.
“It’s kind of interesting, because although it wasn’t my choice, it is still something that I can take pride in, like my belief system, my family’s belief system, and I think that it’s really cool that my middle name is connected to that. If they know my middle name, they can also maybe know a little bit more about me and what I believe in.” Doherty feels as if middle names reveal a part of a person’s identity, especially if it bridges to their family.
Family matters to Caitlin Lynch (’25), growing up between two different cultures. She feels as if her middle name, Mei serves as that bridge connecting her two ethnicities, Chinese and Irish. Linguistically, her middle name differs from her first and last name which are very obviously Irish.
Lynch finds that because ‘Mei’ is after her maternal grandmother she feels connected to her. “It’s one of the only connections I have with my grandmother because she speaks broken English and I speak broken Cantonese. So, we never really had conversations, but if we have the same name, it’s kind of like we share that.”
Connor Walsh (‘25) has a middle name that he shares with his grandfather, Stando. Stando is the nickname of his grandfather, Stanislav, who worked at a publishing firm in the Czech Republic. He later immigrated to the United States during the Cold War era.
Walsh is honored that he was named after his grandfather. He says, “I think it’s kind of cool, unique, and fun. I’d rather have a unique name, than not… In a way it reminds me of my grandfather. I’ve never met him, but I think he has a good story.
To write a good story, Ulysses Smith (’25) goes under his alias UÆS to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard). Wonder what the Æ stands for? Æon, his middle name of Latin origin is used in his alias.
Although it may seem like he is covering his identity through his writing, it’s the opposite. Instead, he uses it to create a more liberating space for himself, rather than constricting. He states, “This is my name in a world of poetry that I’ve created for myself. And this is who I am in this world [and] no one can take that away.” Using his initials as a mask for writing poetry has helped him develop a sense of identity through his writing, giving him power to be the writer he wants to be without any judgement.
Doherty remembers the trend in middle school where middle names would come up a lot, usually to be made fun of and judged. She recalls, “When it came to middle school, I started to see that some people were embarrassed of their middle name. So, I was like, ‘What’s wrong with your middle name? Like, why? Why do you not want to share that?’…I definitely did have some reservations at that time because everyone else around me did and I didn’t want to be the only one who liked my middle name.”
In hindsight, I liked my middle name. It added that unique flair that names like Ann or Andrew didn’t have. But that’s what made me wary around it…that it was so different than what everybody was used to, not being the typical “American” name.
Beyond middle names, un-American names can be looked down upon. An article by Alla Gonopolsky called, “To My Fellow Americans With Weird, Un-American Names”, describes that, “As humans, we evolved to innately gravitate toward our tribe, toward the people most likely to speak our language, literally and figuratively…While our brains love jumping to conclusions, they hate feeling stupid. Pronouncing and butchering unfamiliar names makes us sound ridiculous. So, we try to avoid it.”
But is this avoidance more harm than it’s worth? Growing up, middle names were something that could be made fun of, if it was different enough: a smirk slowly crossing a kid’s face waiting for a middle name to make fun of on the playground. A whole plot of a Disney show episode revolving around finding out a character’s humiliating and disastrous middle name.
With the culture that’s current now, it’s easy to be swept up in the belief that all that’s different is bad, and that those who are different should be ashamed.
Lynch has gone against this status quo surrounding her name and her identity, with the help of those around her. She says, “I’ve always been pretty proud of my name, and my heritage. My parents taught me to never shy away from it, or never to be embarrassed of who I was. I have them to thank for that.”
– Hannah Klarov
Mouth of the River 
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