What's in a name?

Elizabeth is my given name; my legal name. It is the name on my birth certificate and the name that people called me until I was old enough to correct them. Well, sort of.

I remember playing at my friend Sarah’s house and when I was around five years old. Sarah called me Liz and I quickly scolded her.

“Only some people can call me Liz.”

I meant only my friends can call me Liz.

It wasn’t long thereafter that everyone was calling me Liz, at my insistence. I ditched Elizabeth for practical purposes and only my grandma was calling me Elizabeth. (She eventually got the memo when I was a teenager after I didn’t have the heart to correct her all those years.)

When Elizabeth was used, it was when I was in trouble and my middle name, Miriam, usually followed behind. Although since I was such a well-behaved child, the combination barely reared its head. I resented my name for being old (Queen Elizabeth), really ridiculously long to spell and say, and well, for just being my name. Doesn’t everyone hate their name at some point?

As for its age, to the average person, Elizabeth is old and historic. It is one of those names that carries a regal stature and never seems to go out of style, regardless of the weird names babies are given every day. But it’s even older than you might think. It doesn’t originate in England or with someone known for being a virgin (and a queen).

When I was in college, a roommate of mine who looked down on me for being less religiously observant than her once lamented,
“Elizabeth Foreman. That sounds like such a waspy name.”

What? Yea, ‘cause Foreman is so waspy, I thought. Please note I don’t like to use or perpetuate the phrase “WASP,” which stands for White Anglo-Saxon Protestant. There’s nothing wrong with being in that category, but rather the connotation in which the term is often used is what is offensive.
I responded, “What? It’s not waspy at all. What are you talking about?
“Actually, Elizabeth comes from the Bible,” I continued.

Ha! I beat the yeshiva girl at her own game.

If you look up Elizabeth in any name book or frankly Google Elizabeth, it will read as meaning something to the effect of being “consecrated from God” and Hebrew in origin. Elisheva – Exodus 6:23. Elisheva was Aaron’s wife and consequently, sister-in law to Moses and Miriam. And Miriam is my middle name! Jewish royalty! Sort of.

When Mom and Dad named me, they toiled with an S instead of a Z, but legend has it that Dad thought people would spell it wrong so they stuck with the traditional Z. EliZabeth. And Mom insists I am not named after anyone, well my first name at least.

I still cannot avoid my abnormally long name for legal purposes. On standardized tests in school, I was inevitably Elizabet, because it would only accept 8 letters. Poor h was always cut off. I unconsciously hoped year after year that the upcoming test would leave space for 9 letters. Nope. Never. Somewhere in some drawer in New York State there are a lot of newsprint tests with No. 2 pencil marks bearing the name Elizabet Foreman. Or maybe in a lot of drawers. Or maybe they’ve been shreaded. I hope the latter.

And one day it became Liz, at least in every day practice. I still grapple with how I should be referred to professionally, but usually default to Liz. Those who slip in an Elizabeth every now-and-then at work give me anxiety (again, the whole being in trouble thing) and show a lack of attention to detail. But I’ll let it slide, because after-all, only my friends call me Liz.

The following are variations of my name, which I have been called. I’ll allow these for those who are stuck somewhere between Elizabeth and Liz.

Lizbip – my brother
Liza (read Leeza) – Greek neighbor
Aliza (read Aleeza) – Israelis, to whom lamed-yud-zion does not make sense
Eli (read Ellie) – unnamed co-worker
Htebazile – college roommates