While growing up in Colombia, my parents never called me by my full name unless I was in trouble. Although this is a fairly common experience for most people, it truly shaped how I felt about my full name, Valeria.
My family typically referred to me using nicknames. I would often be called Tata, Vale or even Gordita, so I rarely heard my full name in a positive or warm tone. When I was called Valeria, I felt like I was in trouble and thought the person talking to me was angry or disappointed.
By the time I started school, I loathed my full name.
There, teachers and friends unfamiliar with my nicknames called me Valeria. I still felt a fire burning in my chest every time someone referred to me by that, so I asked everyone to call me Vale.
Reminding everyone I didn’t like to be called by my full name became a routine. My friends began to call me Valeria just to upset me, and people even laughed when I corrected them. With time, everyone saw how I felt and respected my wish to be called Vale.
It wasn’t until I was 19 when I moved to America for college that my feelings for my full name started to change. At Temple, I had the opportunity to start fresh and decide what I wanted people to call me. But because I spent years bouncing between different nicknames at home and school, I didn’t know which one to choose.
When I met my roommate and told her my full name, we started brainstorming different nicknames other Americans could pronounce. After talking for a little we came up with Val. Even though I had never been called that and even found the name a little unoriginal and generic, I liked it enough to adopt it as my own.
The people I met in college tried to pronounce Valeria instead of calling me Val, but often struggled with it until they inevitably gave up. While people trying to learn to pronounce my full name was a sweet gesture, it used to bother me. Even a butchered version of Valeria evoked the same intense discomfort and irrational anger I did when I was growing up. I always felt relieved when they would stop trying and settle for Val instead.
It took me a while to get used to Val and at first because I didn’t realize when others were addressing me. I just assumed it would take a few months for me to get used to my new nickname, so I didn’t waste any time worrying about it.
During winter break I went back to Colombia for the first time, I was suddenly surrounded by people who used my childhood nickname, Vale. Only then did I understand how disconnected I was from the name Val.
For the first time, I realized how much I missed hearing my nickname and all the positive, comforting feelings I associated with them. I was a little sad because no one at school called me by the nicknames I was used to. Deep down, I knew there wasn’t anything I could do about it because everyone already knew me as Val.
In classic holiday fashion, I got into an argument with my parents while I was home and they resorted to their best weapon to get under my skin; calling me Valeria. However, when I heard my actual name out loud, I didn’t feel the same intense rage that used to accompany it. It was refreshing and it felt nice to hear it after so long.
Getting used to a new nickname finally allowed me to get over the negative feelings I associated with Valeria. I never imagined my time abroad would make me appreciate my full name more and I certainly wasn’t ready to discover that it would make me miss it.
Now and then, I laugh when I remember that all I needed to overcome my hate for my name was to move away from it. Moving to a different country helped me reclaim a name that I once associated with anxiety and fear.
After returning to America for the spring semester, my friends kept referring to me as Val. It didn’t communicate the same warmth or comfort as Vale or Valeria, but I eventually started to feel happy when people called me it. I created a life for myself in a new country and felt a different type of happiness that I associated with the name.
When I hear Val, I can’t help but think about all the friends and people I’ve met in the past two years and feel their love when they use that nickname.
Sometimes I even surprise myself when someone tries to call me Valeria and instead of getting annoyed like I did for most of my life, I smile and feel grateful for their efforts. I had a hard time learning to appreciate my names, but I’ve learned to cherish both Val and Valeria. Even though I associate them with different feelings, they now remind me of the people that I love in both Philadelphia and Colombia.
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