Identity.

Identity.

I’ve been thinking a lot about it this week. 

Shakespeare famously wrote “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

Perhaps. But the rose doesn’t know it’s called a rose (at least as far as we can tell). 

Humans on the other hand? Yeah, we’re well aware. Maybe some humans aren’t connected to their names as their identity, but I suspect, as I am, many are. Idenity has been a constant source of confusion and evolution for me my whole life. I won’t go into all the reasons but suffice to say mental health is involved and it took a hella lot of therapy to parse through it all. 

In the end? I pretty well know who I am, although that is always changing and evolving. And sometimes I am still figuring it out. I think we all are. But for me a big part of that has been finding my identity in my name.

In the Beginning

I was born Priscilla Gayle Trevino. According to the lore (AKA my mom) I was named Priscilla because my grandma liked that name. My mom wanted to name me Tiffany but in her groggy state post birth she wanted to make her mom happy so when they asked for my name she said “Priscilla”. I cringe at that name now. 

Gayle is my mom and grandma’s middle name. My great-grandfather (who I never met because he abandoned his family when my grandma was a baby) had the middle name Dale and that is the origin of Gayle. I have always hated that name, but I kept it because it meant something to my mom. 

And Trevino…well that was my biological father’s last name and my bio parents were married at the time so there you go. It was weird having a hispanic last name but looking whiter than most white people (I’m half Latina but I don’t look the way people in South Texas would expect a half Latina to look. I promise, I am. We come in multiple colors!) (Side note: to be clear I am super proud to be Latina, I was not proud to carry the name of my bio father). It felt like an ill-fitting costume because it was not reflective of who I was or the man I considered my dad.

But Cilla, none of those names are names you use now. What happened? 

Honor Thy Father

Well dear reader, you see, my bio father did a lot of crap to me growing up (see aforementioned mental health support I referred to) and when I was six my mom started dating the wonderful man I would come to consider my dad. My bio father would never let him legally adopt me but I consider myself adopted. I mean, he was my dad. Full stop. So when I was 23 I went through the process of changing my last name from Trevino to Hagle. And thus Priscilla Gayle Hagle was born. It felt good. It felt right. But not completely. But I was 23. I still had growing to do. A lot of growing and a lot of therapy. 

From 'Priscilla' to 'Cilla'

Fast forward almost 20 years to when I was 40 and I had been going by Cilla for most of my life. I stopped using Priscilla except on legal docs. It was in no way who I was anymore. Hearing that name made me feel like they were talking about a person that no longer existed, so I decided to just make it legal. I did the name change process again. This time I SERIOUSLY considered changing my middle name too. But things with my mom were in a rough spot and I felt like changing my middle name would be the nail in the coffin of our relationship so I didn’t. I became Cilla Gayle Hagle. And I was happy with that. Mostly. Everyone in my life knew my name. And yes, people frequently mispronounce it. I am not sure how you get Celia or Cecelia or Cella from Cilla. But people do. I guess Cilla Black wasn’t famous in the US like she was in the UK. But it’s worth dealing with because it’s my name. It’s just who I am. As sure as a sky is a sky and water is water I am Cilla. 

And knowing how powerful names are to me my mom weaponized it. After a falling out that I won’t go into except to say my side was never heard and her interpretation was based on lies she was told, I sent my mother a birthday card with a gift card. Why? Lead with love. Now and always. I am hurt and angry, but I still love her. I won’t let lies and judgement change who I am and what I do. She mailed it back, pointedly addressing it to "Priscilla Hagle." She used my birth name as a blade, knowing exactly how much it would sting.

It was more or less in this moment I realized I made a mistake not changing my middle name. I kept it for her. I suppressed part of my identity and power for my mom. Someone that would prefer to weaponize my name and feelings (and mental health) over lies rather than hear me out. It was in this moment I decided that, as much of a pain in the ass as it is, it was time for one final name change. And so that process is about to start. 

A Róisín By Any Other Name...

My middle name is Róisín. Why? Would it be a cop out to just say I know it is because it is? Cause that is the honest answer. But if you want more you could say purple roses are my favorite flower and róisín is Irish for rose and I have a very deep emotional tie to Ireland and the Irish culture at large (as we already know.) I have already started using Cilla Róisín socially, but soon it will be legal. Cause that’s who I am. Cilla Róisín Hagle. It is a name I will use proudly because I’m proud of the woman I am. The woman I’ve fought to become. The woman I fought to find. 

So yes, Mr. Shakespeare, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but this rose (Róisín) knows exactly who she is, and soon the world will as well. 

Why did I tell you this story? I want you to take your power back. Your identity. Maybe that is in your name. Maybe your career, family, hobbies…a blend of the above. Whatever it is, own it. Wear it with pride. Don’t suppress yourself for anyone. Be proudly you. And always, always…

Treoraigh le grá (lead with love),

Cilla Róisín