What's in a name?

I've become fascinated by names recently. Most people are more or less stuck with whatever name their parents gave them at birth, but those of us who transition have the great luxury of choosing how we will be known to the world.

It's something that requires a lot of thought; names like Fantasia L'Amour and Amanda B. Reckondwit are fun, but they're probably not the sort of thing you want on your resume when you apply for that big corporate job. Please note: "Social" is not my real last name (duh!); it was a joke when I needed something for a Yahoo ID. Annie Social = Antisocial. It was funny at the time; I guess you had to be there.

Of course, those who have gender-neutral names such as Kim or Leslie don't have to change at all; they are able to avoid the expense and hassle of going through the courts. But they don't have the fun of choosing!

The easiest solution is the feminization (or masculinization) of your old name. Robert and Bob become Roberta and Bobbi, John becomes Joan, and Steven becomes Stephanie (or vice versa). There are only two problems with this approach: the new name may be uncomfortably close to your old name if you are trying to start a whole new life, and again, you don't have the fun of picking an entirely new one.

Some find out what their parents had planned to call them if they turned out to be the other sex; remember that some of us are old enough to have been born before it was common to know in advance what the baby would be. Others choose the name of a favorite relative or childhood friend or fictional character, or simply a name that they've always liked.

I think most of us, though, try to find a name with some special significance to us.

Several years ago I was researching my family history and came across a relative I hadn't known existed. She was a little girl named Annie, the daughter of my father's grandparents, and had died in 1880 at the age of 19 months.

She never appeared in any census records; she had been born and died between the years the census was taken. The only record of her was an inscription on a tombstone. She had been completely forgotten.

The thought of a little girl dying on the prairies of North Texas so long ago stuck in my mind. I found myself thinking of her often. When the time came for me to decide on a new name for myself, the choice was obvious. I became Ann Elizabeth. Ann E., or Annie.

That little girl was no longer forgotten; she had another chance at life, as did I.

Please tell me the story of your name; just click on "Comments" below.