They wanted me to remember where they came from, and I do. My parents chose my name with the best of intentions. It means others would love me even if I was bad and ugly! Not only was there one syllable separating me from being an outsider and being like everyone else, but Amy means “beloved,” so that name doesn’t carry the burden of having to feel or act a certain way. That is another reason why I wanted to be Amy. The characters translate to “good” and “beautiful.” This puts an awkward pressure on those who ask me the meaning to say, “Oh, uh…yes! You are true to your name.” My usual response is to avert my gaze and half-heartedly mumble “thank you,” as I’m too uncomfortable to claim those traits. I cringe when people ask me what it means. Their American friends told them Nana was not a good name because everyone would be expecting me to be an old granny, which may have made for some confusing moments-”Nana sleeps in a crib” and “Nana loves dancing in her tutu!” They wanted Japanese names for their kids that would be easy for Americans to pronounce. My parents, who both grew up in Japan, originally picked the name “Nana” for me. She made an incorrect assumption that his name was short for Kenneth. He told my mom that he protested when the art teacher forced him to write “Kenneth” at the bottom of the picture in bold letters. He always went by “Ken.” I was so jealous that he got an American sounding name! One day Ken came home with a silhouette portrait of himself that he made in his 4th grade art class. They named their long awaited son Kenichi. Then he and my mom scrambled them until they came up with a name they liked. He wrote out all the hiragana (Japanese phonetic characters) on paper and cut them into separate pieces. Being a scientist, my dad created a methodical way to name his children. My parents gave me a Japanese name, just as they had for my two older sisters. I was the third of four kids in my family, born in 1960’s suburban New Jersey, with no other Asian family in sight. Not surprisingly, when I approached my parents with the idea, they laughed. I remember having an aching feeling at 7 years old, wishing with all my might that I could change my name. All my friends and Barbie dolls were white, and I wanted to match. I wanted to change it to “Amy.” Amy sounds cute and it sounds white, and I wanted to be both.
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