I am a writer. Primarily, I write fanfiction, but I am also working on a High Fantasy trilogy, and have been for a count of years I will not divulge here. As a writer, I spend a lot of time naming characters, including when I write original characters into my fanfiction, which, admittedly, is something I thoroughly enjoy doing. If you were to take a look through the files and folders for my stories, you would find lists upon lists upon lists of names. I spend hours, days, weeks, finding the perfect names for my very imperfect characters. I choose my characters’ names based on meaning and how that pertains to their character arc, their personality, the role, or roles, they play within the story. I very seldomly start a fanfic or novel until each original character, especially the major ones, are named as perfectly as I can name them. Then, and only then, do I feel confident enough to begin writing.
Why do I spend such time on naming characters? Because names are important. They are the first indication we have as to who someone is. Names are our identities. They inform others of who we are, even if it’s only on a surface level.
Those of you who have been following my blog for a while have probably noticed a significant change at the bottom of the posts. My name. Instead of reading Jen, it reads Catherine. As the weeks and months wear on, you may see it change from Catherine to Cat or Kit as I settle into it.
For those who are curious, my first and second names are Jennifer Catherine. From the time I was about ten years old, I’ve gone by Jen. Before then, I went by Jenny. But that changed when I was teased by a family member who mockingly told me that the term jenny refers to a female donkey. It was said in a way that inferred he was calling me a donkey; he was calling me an ass. From that day on, Jen was my preferred name. I refused to be called Jenny. I have only allowed two people in my life to call me it, though I have very occasionally used it to refer to myself when performing a song that involves the name of the singer. (Think, New Orleans Is Sinking by The Tragically Hip: “She said Gordie, baby, I know exactly what you mean.”) I only ever did this so it would match the rhythm of the lyric. I gave myself permission to do that. During high school, when my friends would hear my full first name, they’d look at me and say something along the lines of, “You’re not a Jennifer; you’re a Jen.” And, to tell you the truth, I felt the same way about my full given name.
I have a bit of a ‘hold at arms-length’ type of relationship with my given name, and I won’t lie to you – it’s a bit awkward. I love the meaning of my name, but not the name, as a whole, itself. The name Jennifer is the Cornish form of a Norman French form of a Welsh name. (If you’ve managed to follow that, you’re doing well.) It is the Cornish form of the Norman French Guinevere (yes, the Guinevere of Arthurian legend), which itself, is from the Welsh name Gwenhwfar, which means “white phantom”. Further etymology breaks it down to Celtic roots *windos, “white” and *sēbros, “phantom, magical being”. (The asterisks in the Celtic roots mean that these root words are the best guess as to how they’re spelt. The Celtic language, like many ancient languages, was never actually written down, so linguists take their best guess as to what these words would look like were they written down in Latin letters.)
I love what my first name means; I love the whimsy and supernatural, almost Fae connection of the name. However, I’ve always liked my middle name, Catherine, just a little bit more. When I was about five or six, I wanted to go by Catherine, but I didn’t have the agency or support to fully implement it. The adults in my life had all the agency, and six year old me hadn’t yet learned how to stand up for myself. Thus, I continued to go by my first name. I accepted being called it. But, now that I’ve been an adult for 20 years, I have the confidence to ask to be called what I want to be called.
Oh, and for the sake of continuity, I’ll give you the possible origins and meanings of Catherine. Yes, you read that right. Possible origins and meanings. Catherine is the French form and common English variant of Katherine. Katherine is the English form of the Greek name Aikaterine. Now, here’s where the etymology gets a little muddy. Aikaterine may come from the earlier Greek name, Hekaterine, which is itself derived from hekateros, “each of the two.” It could also be related to the Greek word aikia, meaning “torture”, or be from a Coptic name meaning “my consecration of your name”. The final possibility, and arguably, my favourite, is that it could derive from the name of the goddess Hecate (Hekate), Greek goddess of witchcraft, crossroads, tombs, demons, and the underworld. The name Hecate is possibly derived from Greek hekas, meaning “far off”. In the early Christian era, the name Katherine became associated with the Greek word katharos, meaning “pure”, and the Latin spelling changed from Katerina to Katharina to reflect it.
The host of possible etymological origins of Catherine is really intriguing, and, for me, adds depth to the name. Some of those meanings also make sense to me. Catherine is also the first name of my paternal grandmother and great-grandmother. My grandmother went by Stella, the shortened form of her middle name, Estella. While I was emotionally closer to my maternal grandmother, I’ve been emotionally closer to the name that came from my paternal one since I was a child.
So, why the change now? Well, like I stated earlier, I’ve been a legal adult for twenty years, and going by my middle name is something I’ve wrestled with doing for a lot longer. Initially, I was going to make the change on my birthday back in April, but the change ended up happening a bit sooner than that. It happened at the end of March. I brought up the thought of the name change at work to see how much of a hassle it would or would not be to change my preferred name. It was, apparently, easier than I thought it would be. Then, in talking with supervisors, they suggested implementing it sooner rather than later, so the new staff starting this summer could begin their employment calling me by what I wanted to be called. Thus, I started going by Catherine a few weeks sooner than I had initially planned.
So far, things are going well for it. Colleagues that have known me for 6 years have made the adjustment, albeit with the odd slip up, but that’s to be expected. I expect mistakes, and appreciate effort. Friends that I’ve known for far longer than my colleagues have also been making the adjustment well. The owner of the karaoke show company I work with (who I’ve known for 18 years) even did a complete rebrand of my show under his banner, and I am incredibly grateful to him for it. Many of my family members – at least those within my familial generation and younger – have embraced it, and have even corrected those members who have called me – mistakenly or purposely – by my first name. Those in my social circles have embraced it. When I’ve told them that I am now going by Catherine, some have responded with, “It’s nice to meet you, Catherine.” It is a light-hearted thing on their part, and may be their way of introducing themselves to calling me by a different name than what they’re used to. But those simple words have helped me settle into the identity in a way that is hard to explain. It lets me know they have accepted it and are welcoming the new name even though it’s attached to someone they’ve known for a while. There are a few people, mostly close family, who haven’t accepted the name change, but I’m hoping they will eventually embrace it as well.
This change is 30+ years in the making, and it feels good. To be honest, I feel like it’s one of the things that’s helped me feel better than I have in a long time. Names are our identities. They are often given to us by other people; our parents give us our legal names, and friends and siblings give us nicknames. However, names are things we can change. I have friends who have legally changed their names from what they were given to what they want to be called. I have one friend I’ve known since I was 10, and I remember every one of her name transitions before she settled on the one that best suited her. I have friends whose deadnames I no longer remember. We are allowed to change and adapt to life as we go through it. Sometimes, those changes include what we want to be called, how we wish to be addressed. It’s important to embrace that within us, and within others. Identity is important; it’s who we are at our surface and at our core. Changing it is how we can come into our own, and in many ways, I feel like I am finally doing that. And it feels damn good.
What also feels good is spending time on this blog. I know it’s been a couple of months since I last posted, and I apologize. My work-life balance has been leaning more toward work than it has to life and I haven’t been able to spend as much time writing as I would like to without sacrificing more sleep than working two jobs already does. That said, I am hoping to find, or make, more time to write more often, and have these posts published in quicker succession. Hopefully the next post won’t take as long as this one did.
And until that next post: Stay safe, stay well, and keep on keeping on.
Catherine
