You can call me ...

 "They call me quiet girl
But I'm a riot
Mary-Jo-Lisa
Always the same

That's not my name
That's not my name"

  -  That's Not My Name, by the Ting Ting's


The barista smiled and asked, "Nombre?"
I hesitated for a fraction of a second, before returning his smile and answering, "Sara."
Which is not my name.

I have this thing: I don't like having my name called out in public by a stranger. For about a decade now, I've fallen into the habit of using a pseudonym in coffee shops and restaurants. Sometimes I use my initials, the fun and convenient Sam, and sometimes I use my middle name. When I have to think fast though, the name which usually rolls off my tongue is Sara. It's another S name, and is a fairly common one which everyone knows and knows how to pronounce and spell. For Spanish speakers, I simply roll the 'r' and am good to go.

Most friends who have heard me suddenly use a pseudonym are surprised. It's hard to explain why I do, because I love my name so much. In fact I think it's because I love my name that I'm protective of it. My name is me, and I don't like having it called out in front of a crowd. Going deeper though, I think that I change my name because I once had it claimed by someone else.

I know: I don't own my name. Names, once spoken, are public domain, free to be used. So: when I was probably around 15, I met a girl who also came from a big family, ten kids I think. One day I got a letter from her saying that she had a new baby sister, and her mom had liked my name so much that she had chosen it for her new baby. I had never met anyone else with my name, an unusual phenomenon I'm sure. I tried to think of it as a compliment, as though I had a namesake. Yet in all honestly, I felt robbed. I know a woman who did that to a friend of mine - claimed my friend's daughter's unique name when she was having trouble coming up with something for her third child - and it inevitably rubs me the wrong way. They say that imitation is the truest form of flattery. I've always been suspicious of that. There's a line where copying is complementary, and when it's proof of a lack of imagination and lack of thought for someone else's creativity.

We all have quirks and idiosyncrasies. I don't like to have my name called out in public, so I change it. Baristas and restaurant hostesses don't care. Yet there is something innate in us that, even when we don't want to explain ourselves, somehow needs to do it anyway. I love my name, but sometimes I change it. Now you know why.