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In The Shadow
In The Shadow
by Karen Kitasato
I hate my name.
“Wait, your name is actually Karen?” In high school, whenever I introduced myself, I saw the same reaction – raised eyebrows, a smirk, and a pause before the inevitable questions about my name. Yes, it is really Karen, and no, I’m not a middle-aged white woman with an asymmetrical bob asking for the manager. My name has become a stereotype that's taken on a life of its own, trying to erase me that is me in the process. It was like it had taken over my identity, like a shadow that grew larger than the person casting it.
For a long time, I wished it were different. I wished my name carried the effortless elegance of the Stellas or Valeries or the softness of Athenas or Ellies. I believed my name didn’t suit me. That it was too old, too foreign, too loaded with meaning that wasn’t mine.
But when I visited Japan, things were different. My name felt like it had meaning beyond what the internet had twisted it into. I was reminded of the beauty it held when spoken with the proper pronunciation. The gentle “kah-rehn” was free from the harsh mocking tone it carried in English (Campbell). In Japan, I was someone with a name rooted in culture and tradition. It was as if my name had been waiting for me there, resting softly in the language, untouched by mockery, finally allowed to just exist.
My grandma taught me how to write my name in calligraphy, and she told me she loved the kanji in my name because of the beautiful meaning it holds, given to me by my parents. Though my name has Scandinavian roots meaning “purity”, it never felt like mine. In Japan, names don’t have a single, universal meaning – their significance depends on the kanji the parents choose, each character carrying its own story. My parents gave me the letters 花 (kah) meaning flower and 怜 (rehn) meaning intelligent and prosperous (ichigoichina). Their choice wasn’t random; it was a wish, a hope, a reflection of what they believed I could become. This is when I finally understood that my name wasn’t just a label – it was a connection to my identity, my family, and the meaning my parents had woven into it. For the first time, it felt right, like slipping into a home I hadn’t realized was mine. I carried this feeling with me. It became a symbol of my heritage of who I was before the world tried to twist it. And while I can’t change how other see it, I can now say:
I hated my name.
Works Cited
Campbell, Leah. “Karen Name Meaning.” Parents, 2 July 2024, www.parents.com/karen-name-meaning-origin-popularity-8666065. Accessed 13 Feb. 2025.
“Origin and Meaning of First Name Karen.” Ancestry, 2017, www.ancestry.com/first-name-meaning/karen. Accessed 7. Feb. 2025
“【花】の意味は？名付けのポイントを徹底解説！.” 一期一名（ichigoichina）, ichigoichina.jp/kanji/7/%E8%8A%B1. Accessed 6 Feb. 2025.
“【怜】の意味は？名付けのポイントを徹底解説！.” 一期一名（ichigoichina）, ichigoichina.jp/kanji/8/%E6%80%9C. Accessed 6 Feb. 2025.
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