The Power in Our Names: A Latina Perspective

Our names create a part of our identity that represents how we perceive ourselves. Our names are a testament to our unique experiences. It reflects the hopes and dreams of our parents and family, our culture, and our sense of self, while our surname carries our ancestral history, a branding of both affiliation and transmission.

My name is Alejandra. My name means “defender of mankind,” and my mother chose this name not only because it is beautiful but to give me power as a Latina woman.

I can see all that I am and will become in my name. I see a glimpse of the Peruvian Andes, folkloric dancing, and snippets of the glorious language of Spanish and Quechua spoken to me. My name is not only my unique identity but the identity of my ancestors.

Unfortunately, not everyone understands how important my name is to me. During attendance, many teachers would pause for a minute, baffled at what they saw on their paper. The teachers would call me “Alexandra,” or butcher the delicate pronunciation of my first name without remorse. A small piece of my soul chips away when this happens. I understand when my name is mispronounced by accident, but when someone does not apologize or ask for clarification, it hurts my feelings. My name should be pronounced with confidence and perfection, just like anyone else. 

I carry the feeling of invalidation in my daily life from those experiences, though there is salvation within my friend groups. I feel respected and happy when my friends say my name right, and they come up with several nicknames for me in an endearing way. In a country where I am not like everyone else, my friends make me feel like I belong with this small action. 

I had someone purposely mispronounce my name to tear down my confidence and alienate me as someone who did not speak English well just because of the origin of my name. That experience made me freeze and contemplate what happened. As terrible as it sounds, it made me question myself.

In that cloud of darkness, I found a piece of light in all of it. The way my mother gently and eloquently speaks my first name with so much care and affection. The way my father says my name with as much passion as our Cuban ancestry possesses. Whenever my Spanish relatives vocalize my name in their native accent, it gives me a new sense of pride. When my grandparents were alive, the gentle murmur of my name on their lips made me feel safe and loved at such a young age. 

Within those actions, I saw the power that a name can have in the simplest ways. I took it upon myself to proclaim the true power of my identity.

I began to speak up for myself and redirect the conversation to the bigger problem. The bigger problem is that some people do not care about respecting someone’s identity due to their ethnicity. As a Latina, I need to be close to my culture and not be ashamed. 

I love my name and its meaning. Not only does my name tell you who I am as a person, but it gives you a snapshot of my culture and the people I come from. I use my name to show that I am proud of my background and stable with my identity. With my name, I became part of the movement to get rid of the shameful culture that plagues Latin America. I own my name and the history of it, and I could not be prouder. I ask you all to find the power in your name. What secrets and strength does it hold? How can you use it to create something bigger than yourself? How can you honour the people that came before you with it? 

Your name is your torch branded with fire; it creates a ripple effect in our society. Be proud of it.