When I was born, there was much hoopla as to what my name would be. My grandparents wanted something classic and simple, like Christina. However, my parents wanted something symbolic and unique--they were hippies. My Aunt Rosario suggested that they call me "Jusania." Everyone loved it, and so "Jusania" it was.
When I was a kid, I HATED having such a weird name. It brought me nothing but constant teasing and mockery from other kids at school. Not only because it looks funny on paper, but because it sounds funny too. I had teachers call me everything from "juicy-Anna" to "juz-ania" to "Insane-ia."
When you're a kid, the most important thing in the world is to feel like you belong. But because my name is so difficult to express verbally, it sometimes made me feel alienated and a little lonely. Lucky for me, there was a boy who transferred into my class who had a little thumb growing out of his thumb, so suddenly I wasn't such a weirdo anymore.
Eventually, as I got older, I came to really appreciate my name. By the time I was in high school, I had blue hair, piercings and tattoos, and I thought of my name as just another extension of my unique disposition. I was grateful I wasn't just another "Jane" or "Sue" or "Mary."
Sometimes I wonder if I will meet another Jusania somewhere in this world. There's a chance I never will. But that doesn't make me feel sad. In fact, I like to think it's just me out there.
