What’s In A Name

I’ve always loved my first name-Colette. Growing up, no one had my name. In a sea of Lisas and a small group of Michelles, Colette was all mine.  I always knew that Colette was a French name and that it wouldn’t be unique if I lived in France, but I wasn’t in France. I was here in America, and I thought that my name was LOVELY. Once I got to college, I did meet some Colettes, but there weren’t many of us. I could tell that the other Colettes thought that their name was memorable too. We always greeted each other with the subtle understanding that we were mavericks just for our names alone.  It wasn’t until years later that I found out the meaning of Colette-Victory Of The People. Wowzers! That made it even better. So you see, I have always appreciated the value of a name. It was a close friend who began to shorten Colette and call me Colie. I loved that even more because he always put so much love into it. I think my friends heard the sweetness in his voice, and they began calling me Colie as well, and it just stuck. Then there is the matter of Williams. Well, it certainly was never all mine. I met Williams folk everywhere. I did some research, and I  found that The Williams Family were slaveholders in Trinidad, the island where my father was born. How could a woman with a first name that means Victory Of the People keep her ancestors’ slaveholders’ last name?  “Not I,” said the Cat. It seems such an injustice for anyone to live with this daily reminder of years of abuse and horror. It became crucial for me to find a new name for myself, but most importantly, for my ancestors who had theirs deleted from their memories.  So I asked for and received an African name-Aziza Mariama, which means Precious Child of God. The wise Brother who gifted me with Aziza M. did not know that I was going through a depression when I received it. I didn’t think I was precious, and I certainly had forgotten whose child I was. I wasn’t feeling like anything close to being victorious, and there wasn’t much anyone could tell me otherwise. I felt useless and depleted. I believe that The Creator led him to give me this name. It helped bring me back from an ungrounded place, a place of self-doubt and sorrow.  So, What’s In A Name? Everything for me, a reminder of who I am and that I am not alone. The gift of this name, Aziza Mariama, Precious Child of God, helped bring me home.