All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
Pink and Blue
My name. No matter how many times I repeated it, I hated it. I didn’t realize the misspelling. Teachers skipping my first name out of confusion. The mispronunciation meant more than it did.
“Why?” I would ask my mom the same question every day. No one in my class hated their name as much as I did. So WHY was I different?
One day in class I remember looking up what our names meant and making a poster. Nothing came up for me. I sat there making up words such as “bold, colorful, active, extraordinary.” Although I didn’t know what half of those words meant, I knew they were better than “no results found.” I wanted my name to have a cool meaning. Whatever that means.
My mom named me Kenadie because she wanted to name me Addison and call me Adie. My dad fought her on the name. It was too popular at the time. She spelled my name KenADIE, so she still got her way. I wished every day my name was Addison instead. So I could have the same name as someone else in my school. So I wasn’t left out.
My name was jarring. Ugly. Ordinary—like me? A bright pink in a sea of ordinary blue. I longed to be blue.
But then, I looked at pink. It was fun. Unique. Anything but boring. Like me.
Pink became my favorite color. I found myself wearing pink often. Soon my nails were pink and my favorite outfit consisted of a bright pink flower dress, and pink light up shoes. It was intriguing rather than dull. It was the new normal. The new blue for me. I started to look for the pink in other people. But they didn’t have any pink. All I saw was blue.
That made me think, I don’t live the same life as my classmates. I don’t wake up every morning and have everything given to me. I don’t have college paid for. I go to school for 7 hours and then work for 6. I actually enjoy being at school and learning. Not something I share in common with most people my age. I would rather stay in than go out. And I would rather be with my family than friends.
And that is why I don’t have the same name as three other people in my class. I have taken my name and created a strong girl.
My name has gone through a divorce, death, heartbreak, bad days. My name represents perseverance. My name has gone through more than most people. Which is why it’s unique.
I would never change my name. And I wish it didn’t take me 11 years to figure it out. You could say it’s just a name and it can’t tell a story. But that is wrong. My name has been screamed, used to spread rumors, talked about in good and bad ways, but most importantly to describe me. I would never change my name.