Navigating Identity Through a Name

The Identity Crisis of a Name

When we lived in Abu Dhabi, I introduced myself as Barbara everywhere, which was convenient and even a bit fun.

I love my name, but over time I started to miss my true identity. After moving to London, I decided to embrace my national identity once again and become Varvara.

However, for the locals, Varvara sounds like some incredible Pokémon. I often find myself explaining that it's like Barbara, just spelled with a "v." The way foreigners pronounce my name makes it so distant from its true form that I sometimes wonder which feels closer to me—Barbara or Vaúva.

And don't even get me started on my last name. It takes three attempts to share my last name over the phone before the realtor gets it—B-O-G-O-M-O-L-O-V-A.

Ultimately, I've ended up with a sort of split personality. To people I’m unlikely to see again, I continue to introduce myself as Barbara. When meeting someone new, a flurry of philosophical and existential questions race through my mind. Is another meeting destined for us? Do you deserve to know my real name? What is the meaning of life?

My fellow tennis club members fall into that narrow category of people who know I also have a shorter name—Varya. Well, it should be Var'ya, but I appreciate their effort!

Meanwhile, I could write an entire post on this subject, while my husband remains completely unfazed. I remember one time back in Abu Dhabi, hearing him introduce himself over the phone for the first time. It's worth mentioning that he too had grown tired of the letter-by-letter pronunciation of his name.

• My name is Alex.
• ALEX?!
• Well, my full name is Alexandrovich. Think of Alex as my middle name.