Whose Name is it Anyway?

Brickell: My Name means Bridge

Hi, my name is, what? My name is, who? My name is, chka-chka, little bridge in Old German.

A boy’s name, actually.

The name that I tell everyone, bypassing the first two my parents donned me with. Brickell.

So many variations: Brickster, Brickie, Peanut Brickell. Bree, Bri or Brie. Bri Bri (my favourite actually that only one person has ever called me).

And of course, mispronounced giving me my (literal) street name Brickell Avenue. Or misheard where I’m forced to say, “with a B” as I trace out the letter in the air to the person who just called me ‘Raquel’.

And fun fact: it’s not even my legal name, spelling wise.

Will the real Brickell please stand up?

Your name means a lot, right? It’s what everyone knows you as. But who are you really? Are you your name? Your personality? Your character traits? I don’t know.

It’s not like a name dictates who you’re going to be as a person. Or does it? It’s not like Catherine is going to totally be such a ‘Catherine’. In fact, that only comes along when your personality shines through and people begin to say, “Oh, that’s so Catherine,” or “That’s such a Catherine thing to do,” once personally knowing you.

For me, my parents (unknowingly) foretold my destiny in naming me. I am a peaceful warrior, or so I hope to be called. I’m already called “little bridge” on a daily; I might as well live up to it.

I was told that as a child, someone spoke a word over me saying that “I would be the one to bring all the families together.” Now, not to put all my business out there, but to give some context, I do not come from just one family birthed from just one marriage. I have “half” brothers and sisters and therefore three families that I am a part of. In fact, as a small child, I would write all my given names out (I already have enough) and tag the other two surnames after mine, my father’s last name that is.

So, I’m the little bridge between all families, huh? A great role to take on, but one I will willingly bear. How can I want world peace among all and not start within?

Now, back to my given names. I’m the baby of the family and my parents decided to give the last one all the names. My first two names are my grandmothers’: my paternal grandmother, Elaine, then my maternal grandmother, Joyce. Now, the average Joe does not even know this, people that know me I mean. I told y’all my name is Brickell! So how would you know?

I always felt the names were too old for me, a youngin, to sport. So I’d ignore them. I tell everyone I’m Brickell. This birthed all my nicknames, the most common one being ‘Bri’ (disputed spelling). And I love each and every one. They are so dear to my heart, for only those close to me use these pet names to call me.

I will always introduce myself as Brickell. Why not introduce myself using my first name or my nickname? I don’t know.

At the airport one time, there was a little mix-up. I was asking for my name to be changed from ‘Brickell’ on the ticket to my first given name so there wouldn’t be any problem when I present my boarding pass to the security officer because it has happened so many times before. I told y’all my name is not my name on my documents! This time, for once, it wasn’t a problem actually.

 However, at the ticket counter, a debate, or questioning rather, outbroke.

“Why don’t you use your first name?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t like it. It’s old. It’s my grandmother’s.”

I don’t remember the rest very well but through that whole debacle, meaning in my names was born. Now I’m twenty years old. And I only decided this last month!

It is an honour to don the name of my grandmothers. But Brickell is my name. I am Brickell. I am not my grandmothers, but I am a descendant of them. So, I choose, now, to put them before my name (like I had a choice in the matter), but initialised, to represent that they were here before me and made me into who I am. Their wisdom and lives go before me and set out the path that lies ahead. Without them, there would be no Brickell.

Now what if I wasn’t named Brickell? Well, I would choose to be called Elena Joy, a variation of my grandmothers’ names. Elena is just a pretty name to me and who wouldn’t want to be a literal joy? Adémas (Moreover),

Pause. I’m a language nerd who loves learning languages. Some things just don’t feel the same even if they translate well. Press play.

The meanings of the names I chose and the names that I were given still blend well. Elaine means ‘sunray’ or ‘bright, shining light’; it is the French form of Helen (the language geek inside of me whose first love is French is screaming). Now, Elena means ‘bright, shining light’. That still works right? (It sounds beautiful in Spanish.) Now Joyce, I just found out, means ‘little lord’, but what always stuck out for me in the name was ‘joy’. It would still be an homage to my maternal grandmother.

So, what do we get from all of this? I have no idea. I’ve been rambling this whole time. Basically, a name can or cannot define you. It’s all about you. What do you choose to do with what the people before you gave you, that is, your name, your birthplace, and your family? And what do you choose to do with what God gave you, which is everything else?

Stay true to you.

Signed,

E.J. Brickell

P.S. There are red lines all through this document cause of my name. Chall please!