Name Change

I was 12 years old. We just transferred from our grandmother’s house in Marikina to take care of my mother’s aunt’s house in Cainta. It was a new school, and I was shocked by the number of students in this school. There were 12 sections for just one grade level—that's like the whole high school population of my previous school. There were two other Fatimas in the first year, and I decided not to be one of them. I decided, right then and there, that I’m not Fatima anymore. I’m Elli.

I initially pronounced it as Ee-lay, you know, like a lie. In the course of time, it has continuously evolved into different pronunciations and spelling variations. I managed to try to fit in because I was so afraid to stand out, allowing myself to be called names and shift into identities convenient to people I met along the way.

Now, if that isn’t a great way to showcase my people-pleasing tendency, I don’t know what else will.

I kept Fatima in a closet. I shrieked when people tried to call me by that name. It’s just too religious. She’s just too much. In my deep desire to be unique, like my brother’s name, whose name you can’t pronounce if you know how to spell it and vis-a-vis, I hated her the way my mother would hate the way I stood out with a truthful mouth she couldn’t contain.

Only after, you know, a series of events that I wouldn’t say unfortunate because they brought me to where I am today, specifically in a two-bedroom “I manifested this” apartment, which I will be leaving too real soon, alone with two dogs, typing this on a laptop with a broken left ctrl button, that I realized or was in the process of realizing that my whole name is my identity—nothing about it can I run away from. I decided to resurrect Fatima and found the beauty that she hid with her for all those years. Fatima, the daughter of Mohammed, is an Arabic word that means captivating, the shining one, the one who is beautiful, like the stars. I failed to realize that when I turned my back away from her, I also turned my back away from the person who was not afraid to speak her mind. The little girl enjoyed playing alone, learning alone, and doing a lot of things alone.

Just like where my life is right now.

Don’t get me wrong. Being alone is the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me. Being alone gave me the time to really understand myself and get to know myself to the core. My icks and my beliefs are slowly being formed as I navigate life, always wanting the best for everyone else, except for myself.

So join me in this blog as I share with you who I am, who I want to be, and the many crazy adventures I will partake in along the way.