Personal Narrative: Where I Got My Name

My grandmother's name was inspired by her father's mother who was also called Maria and died days before she was born.

My mom was a reader. She was a slow reader, but a reader nonetheless. Her favorite book to this day is A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty White. The main Character’s name is Mary Frances Nolan. My mom decided then that my name would be Frances. Well, that didn’t work because my dad didn’t like that name. So anyway, my mom also loved a set of children’s books about a badger named Frances (she is an elementary school teacher), and the badger’s little sister’s name was Gloria. I was named Gloria after the little sister, or I was named after Gloria Estefan if you ask my dad.

Through the use of metaphors, Sandra Cisneros believes that people should not let one thing determine who they really are. Esperanza finds the definitions of what her name means to prove that she doesn’t believe that’s who she is. For example, “In english my name means hope. In spanish it means too many letters” (Cisneros1). She compares her name to the meanings in english and spanish.

To produce this book, I asked not “What you are going to name your baby?”, but rather “What is your name? How does it make you feel? Who named you? Why did they choose that name? Would you change

The main idea of “My Name” was to specify that the narrator name was a huge burden on her, which she does not seem to like or want to be defined by. The text tells us that the effect of words can be a burden on individual, which leaves the lasting effect of negativity and drought. Sandra Cisneros purpose on writing “My Name” was to indicate how big of an impact a person's name can have on their reflection of the who they are and who they are bound to be, in others words a name is more than a word given to you the people who named you. This brings up issues mainly identity and sense of reassurance. The background of this excerpt is from the book The House on Mango Street (1984) by Sandra Cisneros. The story is organized in short paragraphs, which made the story much more effective by keeping it simple, but providing as much as information regarding identity, culture, and doubt. The tone of this story in very negative, because the narrator Esperanza is

In “My Name” by Sandra Cisneros, we can see that her name means different things in different cultures. “In English my name means hope. In Spanish it means too many letters. It means sadness, it means waiting” (Cisneros).

For my saint and Confirmation name I chose Saint Anne. Saint Anne was a very holy woman and was the mother of the Blessed Virgin Mary and the grandmother of Jesus Christ. Her name means grace and in Hebrew it also means Hannah.

My name came from all around the world. My three uncles came up with my full name. Jarin coming from my uncle in America, Tasnim coming from my uncle in England, and lastly Nishat coming from my uncle in Bangladesh. My uncles weren't there with me when I was born, so when my parents described me to them, they all chose different names for me that described me the

They named me after the old Rita tree that our village honored, because my hair was the same color as its leaves in the fall. Bright red and obnoxious; the all in your face kind. My mother thought it suited me well because it was like me...obnoxious.

    It was chosen because my my parents decided that the name that they had originally picked for me just didn’t suit me. Up until I was born, my parents were going to name me Madeleine. Once I was born my parents decided that I was Sophia Lily. Lily after my great-grandmother Lillian. They chose Sophia because they liked the it, and it sounded nice with Lily.

I love my name. I haven’t met one person in my whole life with the same name as mine. Just like most of the kids from my religion, my name has a meaning that I can be proud of. My name, Gurrose, means God’s rose.

Instead, my maiden name, Maltempo, complicated and unique, in Italian means bad weather; my brother used to come home from school, upset and angry at my father, for kids were teasing him, but personally I never

As I asked my parents regarding where my name came from, they said my first name Maria was suggested by the midwife who happen to be my grandmother to acknowledge her handwork. My second name Ronalyn, was derived from the name of my father which is Roland. But there are other meanings where my name came from.

Both of my siblings before me were somehow named after my mother’s family. It would only make sense to have me named after someone from my mother’s side. With that said, Elena comes from my aunt Rosanna Elena. As for my middle name, it had originated from my father’s mother, Beatriz. In fact, my middle name is spelled incorrectly. The birthing center I was born in had spelled Beatriz with a “z” when it should have ended with “-ce” like my grandmother’s name, Beatrice. This silly mistake doesn’t anger me or my parents. As a matter of fact, they prefer my middle name to be spelled with a “z” because to my parents, it reminds them of how unique my grandmother Beatrice was and how it passes on to me. According to the website She Knows, Beatriz means “to brings joy,” and my grandmother Beatrice definitely brought out the true definition of one who “brought joy.” My grandmother was always the life of any party. She would make people laugh with all her witty jokes and her hilarious stories. She never failed to bring smiles and joy to anyone. I believe that my delight and well-being for others truly comes from my grandmother and her name. I’m more than honored to be named after

A person’s name is their most important characteristic and is often comprised of hidden significance and centurial “hand-me-downs”. When I was assigned to research my name, I had never thought of the importance of the name my parents had given me. As a child, I always found it annoying when my peers turned to snicker at me each time our church’s music minister asked for the congregation to stand and sing “Amazing Grace.” Each time I heard the song “Mary Had a Little Lamb”, there was always someone near to ask, “Hey, where is your lamb?” After conducting research, though, I began to find little things that made me more appreciative of my name.