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What’s in a Name?
You likely made assumptions about me based on my name — here’s what you don’t know
What’s in a name? I’ve been thinking about that question lately after I found this mug at my parents’ house. I bought it as a teen because I loved the definition even though it’s not how I spell my name.
I’ve been thinking about how I have two names: Kathy and my Chinese name, Lu Wei.
I’ve been thinking about why that’s the case. I was born in the United States; my parents wanted me (and my siblings) to have American, Western names.
Because it would be easier to blend in, easier to remember, easier to feel like you belong.
It was a matter of function, not of meaning.
That’s the opposite of Chinese culture, where choosing a name is a process. It involves research and intention. My mom can dissect the parts of the character Wei. Your name is an identity, a blessing, and destiny.
So when I realized that Kathy didn’t carry the same heft — chosen because it was “short, easy,” my mom says — I went searching for meaning.
There was a period when I thought I could be any variation of Kathy because it didn’t matter — Katherine, Kathleen, Catalina, Kat. (Really, I had Kat embroidered on my band jacket.)