by Adrienne Rae Perez Lirio
Adrien. Adrianna. Adrian. Or, my favorite, "Adrieen," hastily scribbled onto a coffee cup by a flustered barista. Sometimes, my name feels like it can take on a life of its own, and for years, I struggled with what that meant for my identity. My friends still laugh about that day; honestly, I do too. My name, "Adrienne," seems to take on a life of its own. My name is oftentimes an unconventional name for a girl in the United States, and it's rare to meet someone who gets it right on the first try. Only two people have pronounced or spelled it correctly, and I remember both instances as small victories. However, I have long viewed this uniqueness as a burden.
My full name is Adrienne Rae Perez Lirio, a name that's carried more stories and struggles than I ever expected. According to the U.S. Social Security Baby Name Database, the year I was born, 2005, "Adrienne" ranked 730th most popular name in the United States. In my birth state of New York City, "Adrienne" didn't make the top 100 during the 2000s (Social Security Administration). When teachers would reach my name during roll call, they'd pause, stumble, and ask, "Do you go by Adrienne or Rae?" I didn't know how to answer because I wasn't sure which one fit me better. My parents had given me both names—"Rae" as part of a typical Filipino tradition of giving kids second names, and "Adrienne" because they wanted something unique yet adaptable in the U.S. But instead of feeling special, my name often felt like an outlier. I wanted a name like Sydney or Alexandra, something teachers wouldn't hesitate to say. I still remember the substitute teacher who confidently called me "Adrianna" and sighed when I corrected her as if my name inconvenienced her. I shrank in my seat, silently wondering why my parents hadn't chosen something simple.
It took years for me to see my name differently. Now I understand that its uniqueness is part of its beauty. My middle and last names, Perez and Lirio, dig into my family's history —Perez, a reflection of the Philippines' colonial past when the Spanish forced Filipinos to change their last name, and Lirio, meaning "lily" in Spanish, symbolizes growth and resilience (Cambridge Dictionary) (Del Leon). Adrienne itself has become a conversation starter where people pause and ask. The mispronunciations and mistakes I once resented are now stories I tell with pride, symbols of the courage to stand out and embrace the legacy my name carries. Now, when someone hesitates before saying my name, I smile, correct them, and take pride in the unique identity my name represents.
De Leon, Kayla."Remnants of Our Colonized Names." Narra Studio Journal, n.d., Accessed 14 February 2025. https://narrastudio.com/blogs/journal/remnants-of-our-colonized-names.
"Lirio." Cambridge Dictionary, Cambridge University Press, n.d., Accessed 18 February 2025.
https://dictionary.cambridge.org/us/dictionary/spanish-english/lirio.
"Popular Baby Names." Social Security Administration, n.d., Accessed 14 February 2025. https://www.ssa.gov/oact/babynames/