by Fahrin (FAH-reen) Kermally

“What was that? FEY-rin? Fey-REEN? Fah-RIN? Can you repeat that, please?”

I always hated the first day of school. Not because I was worried about having friends. Not because I was scared I would flunk out. But because I dreaded listening to the teacher mispronounce my name. And then continue to mispronounce it, not trying to get it right, and just settling on saying it wrong for lack of effort and interest.

I danced this dance on the first day of every school year for my entire childhood. Even in the 1980s, Toronto was a very multicultural city. The kids I grew up with were mostly immigrants or, like me, first generation Canadians. We were kids who spoke perfect, accent-free “Canadian English”, but most of us didn’t have “Canadian” names.

Lots of those kids adopted nicknames, or simply changed their names altogether. “Wei” became “Richard”, “Jamila” became “Jamie” and “Zhi Ruo” became “Angie.” But I was just Fahrin. And my name was constantly mispronounced.

As the years went on, I got more comfortable standing up for my name. The name that means joy. The name given to me not by my parents, but by my mom’s only sister, in a beautiful cultural tradition of letting one’s siblings name your children. By the time I was out of high school, I wouldn’t let anyone mispronounce it. I was swift at shaming people who wouldn’t even try to say it correctly. But the anxiety around my name always lingered, steeped in the fact that saying it correctly seemed to be just out of reach for so many people.

But then a change, with an opportunity for something new.

My husband and I packed up our two-year-old daughter and moved to the southern Caribbean coast of Costa Rica, the decision to start our life anew made in a whispered conversation as we watched the sun rise one spring morning. Five weeks later, we were on a plane to a country I’d never been to, where I didn’t know a soul.

A place where no one knew my name.

A few days after we arrived in the sleepy little town that became our new home, and after a little more sangria than I’m used to drinking, I vocalized an idea that had been percolating in my mind for a few weeks.

I should change my name.

I knew I wouldn’t legally change it. Fahrin is my name. It’s my byline. Fahrin is the name on those expensive university degrees I don’t use. It’s the name my family uses for me, usually with a laugh and some measure of exasperation in their voices. To hear my loved ones say my name tells me I’m home.

But there is more to a name than family ties. Fahrin is also the name of the person with the best laid plans that never came to fruition. It’s the name of someone who started writing several books and didn’t finish them. It’s the name of someone who endeavoured to run a marathon but never did. It’s the name of someone who made so many damn mistakes.

In this new place where no one knew me, I didn’t have to be that girl anymore. I could invent myself to be whomever I wanted to be. Every milestone I hadn’t reached, every goal I hadn’t achieved, every dream I wanted to fulfill – these things were all possible now. Fahrin hadn’t done them. But someone new could.

I sat over that sangria and tossed out a few names, trying out square pegs in a heart-shaped hole. Zoee came out of my mouth with no forethought, but the moment the name had passed my lips, I knew it was the one.

I immediately grabbed the ever-present pen and notebook from my purse and started scrawling out the name with different spellings. Zoe, Zoë, Zöe, Zoey, Zooey, — there seemed to be so many options, and none of them was right. And then, with a stroke of my pen and a rather grand flourish, I wrote in my usual messy, crooked cursive, Z-O-E-E.

Zoee.

The double “ee” was an ellipsis to me. The name didn’t end where you thought it would. There could be more. It was unexpected. A surprise. Just as Zoee would be.

And this is how I came to be Zoee. I truly believed that with this new name with a unique spelling, I’d be a new, unique me. I would be the me who did the things I never did before.

Zoee would finish the projects Fahrin only started.

Zoee would do the things that Fahrin talked about doing.

Zoee would be the gentler, kinder, softer person that Fahrin wanted to be.

Assuming a new name in this new place came as naturally to me as breathing. I never missed someone calling out to me as we passed on the road. My husband adopted the name as if he had been using it for our entire relationship. It never felt foreign or weird. It was me.

It is me. I’m Zoee.

But also, I’m Fahrin.

And as it goes, even the best-laid plans go awry.

It wasn’t long before kinder, gentler, softer Zoee began slipping back into righteous, anxious and slightly obnoxious Fahrin-with-a-new-name.

Ideas were conceived but not birthed.

Plans were made and not fulfilled.

And four years later, so much is different, and so much is the same. I’m Fahrin in one country, Zoee in another, and in both places, still just me.

It took me a while to get here, but here I am. I’m Zoee. And I’m Fahrin. And most of all, I’m me. I moved far away from home and changed my name only to discover that I’m going to be me no matter where I live. I’m going to be me no matter what my name is. I’m going to be me whether you know me or not, whether you like me or not.

Am I a kinder, gentler, softer version of me? Yes, and I am.

Do I start projects and finish them? I do. Sometimes.

Zoee is just Fahrin, with four extra years and a wider, wiser perspective.

She hasn’t finished every project she started, but her courage continues to grow every day, with each new challenge she faces. She remains optimistic about who she can be, because she knows she’s not done yet. No matter what you call her.

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 Fahrin Kermally is a freelance writer by day and a voracious reader by night, who splits her time between the city life of Toronto, Canada and the beachy life of Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica. In her previous iterations, Fahrin was a door-to-door salesperson, a clinical research coordinator, a banker and a project manager. When she’s not writing about healthcare, parenting or pop culture, you can find her watching soldier/dog reunion videos on YouTube.