I always had a huge fascination with how people named their children. Why, out of all the sounds you can throw onto a child, did you choose this? So, naturally, I would ask my mom why they chose Karen for me.
She told me, "Te pusimos el nombre Karen, porque cuando tu papá estaba joven, se enamoró de su maestra. Pero no puedian estar juntos porque ella era mas mayor de edad. Me dijo cuando estabamos juntos que si tenia una hija, le iba poner Karen."
Basically, my father picked it for me in memory of his old crush on his teacher, according to my mother. My mom would always pick on him, calling her his ex-girlfriend. I loved it. I never asked my dad for his side of the story because it was so entertaining to me, I didn't want any of the humor or "magic" to be broken. I had such a strong connection with my first name. Everything about it made me happy. The way I had to write the letter "K", three giant sticks heading in different directions. Meaning "torture" or "pure" depending on which era you're looking at. Shortened form of Katherine, becoming 2 syllables, easy to pronounce. Short, sweet, to the point. Simple. It was just right for me.
Too bad everyone's parents seemed to think the same thing because we had around 5 different Karens in each fucking class.
Karen Ramirez, Karen Hernandez, Karen Fombona, and Karen Ruiz. None of them carrying a convenient nickname in their pockets except for Karen Peña in my yearbook class, who's nickname was "Little Karen", because she was two years younger than me. (Firebaugh students flourish with creativity.) There had to be at least 2 Karens per class and I remember being caught by surprise when there was only one Karen in my senior world history class, can you say #blessed? By the end of senior year, whenever I heard the name Karen, I stopped turning around so I wouldn't waste my time finding out they were calling out some other Karen. Caused a lot of trouble when people were actually calling me, haha.
Going into my first semester of college, I had taken a Intro to Japanese class. Soothing, calm, and no clamoring noise of three girls trying to claim the name Karen at once. No awkward turning of heads trying to figure out which Karen they meant, so they wouldn't get an accidental absence on their record. So far so good. Until I hit my first art classes. Two art classes, two Karens in each one. Ruiz in one and Long in the other. Now, I wouldn't mind being in a lecture class and having a thousand Karens because it doesn't matter because none of us will be talking and all we have to do is sign our names on a sheet. But in these very interactive courses with smaller class sizes, getting confused happens. Especially when second semester hits and the three Karen artists got caught in the same 2D foundation class.
But enough about Karen, let's talk about Ramirez. Ramirez is just not a name I identify with. I was never called by it and the only times I used it were for papers. It felt like a student number, just there to sort me away from different Karens. And while I respect my ancestors and my parents for passing it down to me. But it's just that. It was passed onto me and I never fully accepted it.
And now, finally, onto Page. Page is a name I very much identify with. I started an art blog under the name Page for my art commissions, and it just became a norm for others to contact me as Page. In this world I was no longer Karen Ramirez. I was just Page. And what makes me happy is that I chose it for myself because it feels like myself. My closest friends gradually started calling me Page and slowly I'm trying to introduce myself as such. I accept it and would prefer to be called Page rather than Karen or Ramirez. It just became a part of who I am.
The biggest problem with this name change for me is bringing it up to people who only call me Karen. Which, I think is why I even wrote this piece. Whenever I bring it up to not so close friends, they don't understand why I even want to do it in the first place. That's fine. I don't mind if people don't understand but still go along with it. Hell, I don't even care if you slip and call me Karen by accident because it's bound to happen. But I've had people outright refuse to call me Page altogether because it would be an inconvenience for them to have to remember a new name. They won't even try. Being unable to be slightly uncomfortable for .02 seconds to comfort a friend who's trying to go through a process, just doesn't sit right with me. It's big but not everyone feels so attached to their names. Changing your name is a slight change of worlds and, to me, it's a new step in the direction I want to go in my life.
Tl;dr: I'm named after my dad's ex. Life as Karen. I changed my last name. Prefer to be called by it. People change their names. Don't be a dick about it.
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