What's in a Name

Parrish isn't a word that's meant to be a name.

I told my mom that creative names

were okay for girls, but not for boys.

She laughed and shrugged and shook her head.

"You have to learn that you can shape your name

to be who you want to be. Why be like everyone else?"

She didn't understand the social drama,

the teasing, the bullying.

It was no use, so I kept it from her.

If anything, Parrish was a stern, stuck-up,

uptight, rule-following, role-modeling name.

I knew when I was little that I was more likely

to become an accountant than a knight,

and when I did, I'd go by my last name,

Branigan, exclusively.

Parrish was a name that was mature and responsible,

and I wanted to live up to that, to fulfill my name.

But there was something else inside me,

that rejected this strict view.

Little by little, as I began to rebel,

the voice told me that the name didn't shape me,

but I shaped my name.

And with a unique name, its meaning

was entirely up to me.