Hello, my name is...

Hello, my name is Vanisha. But it wasn’t always.

For years and years and years I was known as Vanessa. Some people change their name and i get it, sometimes there’s good reason to need the change. I was a kid when I changed my name. I was around seven or eight years old when I became Vanessa.

I was born in 1972. I was born to, two young parents. Obviously from my picture it’s easy to see I’m Caucasian. And my mother named me, Vanisha. No one had heard of the name before, no one in my family and no one in my extended family. It was different, it was unique, it was unheard of…and later it would become known as the “stupid name”.

When my mom gave birth to me and it came time to fill out the paper work for my birth certificate and hospital records, the nurse asked my mother what my name was, to which my mother responded,” her name is Vanisha Joy”. The nurse asked my mom how she was spelling my first name, and my mom didn’t know. She didn’t know how to spell it, she’d never seen the spelling for it, only heard the name. The nurse assisting my mother with the paperwork didn’t know how to go about spelling the name either, so between the two of them they decided the best thing to do was to spell my name Vanessa and just pronounce it Vanisha.

So for the first few years of my life my mother would correct anyone and everyone who called me Vanessa, explain what my name really was, pronounce it for them and so on. Every time I was introduced or someone seen my name I had to go through this ritual, correcting them, explaining the back end of the story and why my name is spelled Vanessa but you say Vanisha. I hated it. This merry go round with my name just added to the anguish that was already my life; and my young life had only just begun. Even my grandmother hated my name and would tell me as much every time I visited her. She would comment on what a stupid name it was, and remind me that I didn’t really want my name to be Vanisha, that I needed to call myself Vanessa…”Vanessa is a pretty name” she would say to me, just let people call you Vanessa, that’s what your name should really be.

It made me feel even more of an outcast, I grew to despise the attention this whole explanation would cast on me. I already felt targeted from being sexually abused by several family members and having the added anxiety around the commotion just even saying what my name was, became horrific for me. I wanted to be invisible, to blend into the walls of wherever I was. I wanted to be the girl with no name, not the girl with the stupid mixed up name that we didn’t even know how to spell.

I got my chance one day when we’d moved schools and I was the new girl. I took this opportunity to become the new girl in more ways than one. When roll call happened that morning and my name was called, “Vanessa here?” to which I stood up and replied, “yes…here.”

I gave my birthright away that day. I didn’t realize it then and of course I never could have but giving up my name became one more thing that was stolen from me. Just like my innocence had been taken, my identity, my name was also taken. It would take me twenty-three years to find my way back to my name. To claim the name that rightfully belonged to me, to step into all I was meant to be, to become.

I was thirty years old when I started to be reintroduced to my name, the name I had forgotten. I don’t recall how it even came up, all I can say is for me it had to just be God. In a conversation with a friend, Charlotte, the whole story of my name came out. It was at her leading and strong encouragement that I slowly began to take steps to begin using my real name. This was not easy for me, the name felt foreign to me, like we didn’t fit eachother, I was too small and the name was too big. Not only that but I couldn’t help but think what in the world is everyone going to think? People will think I’m nuts, that I’ve lost my mind! My entire life I’ve been Vanessa, I went to school as Vanessa, I got married not once but twice as Vanessa, I have kids, my own children know me as Vanessa. Who in there right mind wakes up one day and says, “yea by the way I changed my name so you can call me Vanisha now?” I felt like at the time I had come so far in my life, so far away from that abused little girl, I was terrified to look ridiculous again…all because of a name. My name.

Charlotte continued to remind me that Vanisha was my name and that by actually claiming my name and taking it back I was freeing myself, I was restoring apart of myself. Deep inside my soul I knew this was true. It was as if my name called to me from the furthest parts of my heart and soul and I knew if I’m ever going to be all I was created to be, I have to be true to myself, true to my name.

After a few years of making the transition, this all began around 2002 or so, I finally got sick and tired of explaining the pronunciation of my name (yes I once again had to explain it) and I’m happy to say that on January 4th, 2010 I officially fully embraced my name and had the spelling corrected to reflect the pronunciation of it…Vanisha. My name and I had finally become one, we were completely reunited. I no longer hung my head in shame over what used to be my “stupid name” or the girl wishing she had no name.

My mom to this day does not know or remember where she heard the name or how she got the name. I’ve asked her for confirmation many times if she really meant to name me Vanisha …she always answers yes:) Thank you Mom for my name, I’m sorry it took me so long to stand in it. Thank you God for helping me to find my way back to my name, back to myself.

When you look up the name Vanisha, it just makes me smile now (I’ve googled it many times just in case google changes it)) the name Vanisha means; Queen of the Universe; Pure & Cute.

I’ll take it, I’ll take it anyday.

‘There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” —Maya Angelou

Peace,

V~