Cassandra Love (12) stands in the Royal Arcade in Melbourne, Australia. Her name was passed down from the women in her family before her. Photo courtesy of Cassandra Love.
Names are important. Powerful, even.
There’s a reason English monarchs chose to pass down the same names through the generations. As these monarchs rose and fell from power, their names grew more and more prestigious. Not to mention, the names are solid; you really can’t go wrong with Mary or George. Even ordinary people saw the strength that names could carry and as a result would often choose to name their own children after the monarchs out of admiration for them. In a way, I think my parents had a similar philosophy in naming me.
My mom and I spend more time than I care to admit discussing names. Did you hear what these influencers named their child? Does this person match their name? Is it nicknameable? The reason I’ve arrived at for why we talk about names so much is because of how important ours are to us.
My name is Cassandra Love. With this name, I am carrying on past generations. My mom’s name is Sandra. My grandmother’s name is also Sandra. Her mother’s name was Alexandra.
I like to think that I’m carrying on the legacy of the “Andras.” With each new path that I chart in my life, I believe that all of these women, even the ones that I never had the chance to meet, are walking each step with me. There is power in that. There is even responsibility in that: I must live up to my name because I’m carrying the name of four generations with me. Like a weighted blanket, I feel comforted going into the future, knowing I can easily step into the footsteps of the Andras before me.
My last name, too, has meaning. It is not my dad’s but rather my mom’s. To this day, I have not met anyone else in all the years I’ve been in school who has their mom’s last name. Most people, including some teachers at school, assume that my last name is my dad’s, but I always shake my head with a small smile. Whether or not my mom was trying to start a feminist movement is definitely debatable (if my sister and I had been boys, we would have had my dad’s last name), but the outcome is the same. My sister and I are outliers and we are proud to be. Particularly as so many women choose to give up a part of their identity upon marriage, I feel grateful that my mom broke the tradition, just to show us it was possible.
I used to think when I was younger that I would change my last name. If I had a family, I wanted us all to match. I almost resented the fact that neither of my parents had been willing to change; in the airport, I just wanted us all to be the same. Now, though, I see that neither of them wanted to give up where they were from and all the life moments that have led them to where they are today. Neither of them wanted to give up their stories.
As I’m getting ready to head off to college, it is crystal clear to me that I don’t want to give up any part of my name. I intend to lean on my name for strength and make the Andras proud. I have 18 years worth of stories saved up under the name Cassandra Love and I have many more to live with that name, unchanged.