Each name has a story. My name, “Hyeonyeop,” given by my grandparents, means bright and shining, and my grandparents wanted me to live up to that ideal throughout my life. I want to shine in my own special manner and bring a little more light to the world. It was more than just a name; it was a pledge of commitment and a duty. Korean names are composed of Chinese characters. My name even has the element “Hyeon” (炫), which my sister and I both have, tying my sister and I together in a glorious lineage.

In dictionary meaning, the Chinese character 炫 simply means bright. The character 炫 comprises two critical elements: 火, symbolizing a vigorous fire emanating from a tree, lighting up all corners, and rising with indomitable spirit. Then there’s 玄, representing the deep blue and black of the sky or the profound mysteries of the ocean. Combined, these elements signify not just luminance, but a mysterious talent and the ability to manifest one’s will in the world fervently.

Accepting my Korean name took some getting used to. When I went to elementary school in South Korea, I grappled with the discomfort of being mispronounced, even by Koreans. My initial anxiety was heightened by the fact that I needed to tell people how to pronounce “Hyeonyeop’” (Hyeon-yeob) correctly. But when I became older, I saw the beauty in the complexity of my name. Each syllable had a story, a fact from the past, and an expression of my grandparents’ love. 

Even though my first name is uncommon in South Korea, my last name, Kim, is very common. It is an indication of the collective legacy of South Korea. With roughly 20% of South Koreans sharing this last name, it is more than just a name; it’s a symbol of our shared history and cultural roots. It has a long history in Korea; family clans have consolidated throughout the years, with the Kim clan—which has roots in places like Gimhae, Gyeongju, and Andong—becoming the most powerful. Due to the consolidation, numerous unrelated families who had different lineages came to share the same surname, resulting in the creation of a shared identity. 

When I immigrated from South Korea to the United States, my name was altered to my English name, William. My English name, William, translates from German as “resolute protector” and “strong-willed warrior.” My father gave me this name. Although William symbolizes growth and adaptability, akin to my experience transitioning from South Korea to the United States, it never truly resonated with me the way Hyeonyeop did. As I grew older and took on the role of protector for my family, I started to appreciate the depth and significance of my name even more. Though William served a functional purpose, it was Hyeonyeop that was the lighthouse in my life, guiding me with its brilliance. The world may know me as William, but my heart and soul remain rooted in the legacy of Hyeonyeop Kim.