My Name | Teen Ink

My Name

January 11, 2022
By jadateenink BRONZE, Hartland, Wisconsin
jadateenink BRONZE, Hartland, Wisconsin
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

My name is biblical.  It was originally meant for a man.  The son of Onam and brother of Shammai.  In Hebrew, Jada means “He Knows”.  Eventually, the translation evolved into “Wise”.

My name shines with gold, like the glint in a fine piece of jewelry or a valuable coin.  It is expensive, prestigious and elegant.  It’s like a romantic restaurant with a gorgeous chandelier hanging from the ceiling and jazz music playing in the background to entertain the guests.  

It’s not your typical everyday name.  It’s not unheard of, but it’s not a name that is given to just anyone.  I’ve only met a few other Jada’s in my life.; a select few.  

It wasn’t difficult for my parents to decide my name.  Out of a list of 10 names, they each silently picked their favorite.  After revealing them, they had both chosen Jada.  For some reason that name, in my parents eyes, shined above the rest.  A standard I have always lived up to.   

Sometimes I wonder why they picked that name.  Why am I worthy of it?  Jada is a name with such regality.  But I’ve never been able to afford to go to such a fancy restaurant.  None of my jewelry contains actual gold, but merely a yellowish coat of paint. 

My whole life I have seeked perfection.  A pathological need to be the best.  Unrealistic standards I set for myself.  Fear of failure and disappointment are always lurking behind me.  Coming in second is not an option.  I want to win the gold.  

My parents reassure me that it’s ok to not be perfect, but I can’t seem to shake that fear.  What if I don’t get straight A’s?  What if I don’t get into the best colleges?  What if I can’t live up to the meaning of my name? A name that was never meant for a woman.  A name destined for wisdom.  The name my parents chose above all others.  

But my name doesn’t have to be a standard.  Gold is not found in perfect condition.  It has to be dented, twisted, and stretched farther than any other metal.  But it refuses to break.  Gold is malleable. Then it emerges, a gorgeous artifact.  Its beauty is so distracting, all the suffering it endured is forgotten.  

Instead of feeling pressured by name, I choose to see it as a symbol of resilience.  A beacon to guide me through difficult times.  To remind me of my strength.  I feel lucky to be represented by something so inspiring and powerful.



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