Wait a whole year, and you will be called differently.
You always bore an uneasiness with the names given to you. You were called by the name you shared with your mother at an early age in school, casting a long shadow on how you felt you should be. Feminine, graceful, shimmering in daylight. At home, you shared almost identical names with your siblings, causing confusion on whose turn it was to be scared and summoned. Your discomfort is not a lack of gratitude. I know your desire to hide in plain sight, in the ambiguity of something neutral.
Painfully awkward and scrawny, wiry glasses, dental braces, and all, you will feel the need to erase what makes you provincial. You will take refuge in the distance—from home, your old friends, and the other kids making your life difficult right now. In the following year, you will allow yourself to be called a name you will finally reside in for the rest of your life. Because one of your college classmates will find your name a mouthful, he will accidentally gift you a monosyllabic nickname: ‘Ross.’
Take it as a baptism, if you will, as the parallels are there. Never be guilty of this moment, for it is the beginning of a choice to live a truth that is wanting to burst out. I’m thirty-three years of age now. I take our name in stride, how it rolls nicely off other people’s tongues. Our name will see its share of ink and repetition; it will be circulated along with our ideas and dreams. While I wish I could tell you to forget the names of those causing you pain now because you are different and you feel different, these things stay. Take comfort, however, that you will shine brighter than you can ever imagine.
I am sorry that you are beginning to feel deep sorrow at this point in your life. You are unhappy but know that it’s not because of who you are. In fact, you will find the opposite to be true—you will be your happiest in knowing the truth of how and who you choose to love and simply being that way. There’s no easy way to tell you that there are necessary pains you will have to learn. But I also want you to know that you are not doomed by heartbreak or trauma and that you will heal every time if you allow yourself to soak in the light.
Soon enough, you will know the gentle ease of a girl’s embrace. That softness resides in a girl’s kiss. Do not be afraid of tenderness and warmth. Whatever anger calcified from this point on was difficult to undo. I do not blame you for it, though. Just know that to access the joy that will fill you, you must allow yourself acceptance first. That joy and love are parallel: they take many forms.
You are made of strong stuff—your father’s courage, your mother’s persistence. One Christmas night many years from now, you will tell them your truth and confirm what you have already suspected: that they love you without pause. Thank them for your inheritance of grace. Thank the God you believe in for your incredible luck.
Know peace. Know strength. Know joy. Know pride in yourself.
Damn. ❤️