Name Story
Our names are our first stories. Here is the story of mine.
Naomi Raquel.
My father named me. Naomi is a Hebrew, biblical name. It means “the pleasant one.” I find it significant that my name is Jewish in origin, as am I on my paternal side. I also love that though it is not a Spanish name, it is pronounced easily in Spanish, my maternal tongue.
My middle name is in honor of my paternal great-aunt Rachel. She was my grandfather’s older sister, in truth his surrogate mother as she was a teenager when he was born and their mother died when he was about 10 years old. Rachel welcomed him to this country when he arrived alone to Ellis Island from Russia in 1910. Raquel is also a Hebrew, biblical name. It means “lamb.”
My father had wanted to name me Naomi Rachel, but my mother insisted that neither of those names echoed that I am also the daughter of a Spanish-speaking Ecuadorian.
Interestingly, my great-aunt’s given name was Rahel, Rachel in Yiddish. When I learned this, I found it even more significant that I was bestowed with Raquel. To my ears, Raquel and Rahel sound much more alike so in a way my middle name honors her even more.
I have two nicknames. My husband and many close friends call me “Nay Nay,” which I love. And an Aunt in Ecuador began calling me “Nao” when I was a toddler and it has stuck with quite a few of my Ecuadorian relatives. That I love too because it links me to them despite the physical chasm between us. I pronounce my name “Nay-omi” in English and “Nah-ohmi” in Spanish.
I’ve also gone by names that are not directly related to my given name. In Quechua, the indigenous language of Ecuador, ñaño and ñaña mean brother and sister so my older brother, Nicky, has always called me ñaña. My mother has for essentially my entire life called me “godita,” which is a variation of “gordita,” meaning chubby little one. My father, until his death, called me “pumpkin” or “calabacita” (little pumpkin). Whenever I hear any of those words, my heart both soars and constricts with love. Those words are home to me. And now when I hear “Mama” in my son’s sweet voice, it is the same.
I love my name, but growing up I did not. I hated that I had a name people assumed would be a white girl walking into the room. I was often met with shock when I introduced myself or said who I was for an appointment. In those moments I knew people were surprised that a person with my face could have my name. I now sign my first and middle names as a way to encompass my complexity and my truth.
I would not change my name. Naomi Raquel. Nay Nay. Nao. Ñaña. Godita. Pumpkin. Calabacita. Mama.
These names reflect who I am and the fact that I am loved.
These names secure my place in the world.
