I’ve always had an obsession with the prospect of being famous. When we think of famous Frankies, men often come to mind. Take Frankie Grande, Frankie Jonas, or Frankie Muniz, for example. However, such an unconventional name for a little girl has actually gained me much attention. “I love that name,” “OMG I’m obsessed with your name.” These compliments have created a constant ringing in my ears throughout my life, creating a persistent desire for recognition. 

Frankie: a gender neutral name with an ironic meaning: “truthful” (Whelehan). Alongside the raving attention I received, I am dually met with “Oh I thought you were going to be a boy,” or “Is that your real name?” Alongside come the surprised reactions as I raise my hand “here!” during attendance. Or when I joined a Zoom interview for an internship last summer. Or when I showed up for my first gymnastics class in 3rd grade. When searching for the true face behind this assumed masculine name, they find me, a sort of unexpected veracity. 

“Is that short for something?” is the next question that pervades my icebreaker conversations. Yes, actually. Francesca. “Is that Italian?” Also yes.

This name represents my history. My great grandparents immigrated from Trapani, a small fishing village in Sicily. However, again, it's ironic. No one in my family knows Italian. My mom makes the LA-version of lasagna–organic, meatless, and with shredded mozzarella as opposed to fresh. Such an Americanized version of Italian culture presents another example of my name disguising itself as the “truth.” 

My parents named me Francesca with the intention of calling me Frankie. I think this really speaks to my duality, thus the Latin-origin meaning “free” (Roelofs). I flow between many different disciplines and interests on a daily basis. From journalism, to social media, to cooking vegetarian recipes, to hiking–my interest-intersectionality is essential to my individuality. 

However, few aspects of my nature are truly free. I am very type-A: organized, scheduled, and incredibly self-managed. At times, it actually comes back to bite me, as I miss out on opportunities and memory-making due to my rigidity. Yet another instance of my name-imposter syndrome.

Between my name’s cultural significance, associated meanings, and the imposter I feel I embody, lies a deep appreciation for both my “professional” name and nickname. They both represent different aspects of my identity. In a way, they convey my aspiration to be a well-known journalist in the fashion industry, with an atypicality that fosters uniqueness and encourages me to explore the uncharted.