I have always wanted to talk about names and the role they play as a part of what you identify.
PC: Pinterest.
My first name, Aishat, for the longest time has been a worry. It does not feel like mine so I took it upon myself to find what it means as early as age nine. I wonder how much disconnect I felt that made me hate being called too much. I was angry as Aishat, bearing the name came with so much heaviness, I needed a relief.
The first meaning I found said “she who loves enjoyment.” It was at the back of my birth certificate but I didn't like enjoyment. I was always doing the hard stuff as a child and I kept to myself as much as I voice out my opinions, this was far from it.
I remember going to Jummah one Friday and waiting for the chief Imam of my mosque to finish attending to everyone so I could ask him what my name meant.
The second meaning was that she was the wife of Prophet Mohammed and she never had a child. That sounded as a part of what I could be, I would have wanted just a child because I thought it was a necessity. Regardless of how I felt, I wasn't her. I stopped looking because no good response was forthcoming and I most likely got tired.
As a tired twelve year old bearing a name that didn't feel like hers and irritated her hearing, I wanted a name change so bad.
After my sister, Aminat, had her senior school graduation, my dad said it was time to go back there to finish my secondary school education — this was where I did my primary education— so I had to go to summer coaching to get familiar.
My first Monday at summer coaching, the maths teacher walked into class and asked what my name is and I answered that it is Olanrewaju Omotola— Omotola being my third name. Oby, a former classmate decided to burst the balloon I kept blowing and said it was a lie, my name is Aishat and we used to be classmates.
Yet again, I was Aishat for another four years.
I am still tired of being Aishat. I am sixteen now and I have the power to make changes. So I went on a name search, I had nicknames, new picked names, and new given names but they did not cut it.
A list of those names are Iesha, Esha, Darasimi, Umaiza, blackie, abbl.
At last, I was in the university and it was time to exchange names with the first person that asked. I looked down at my documents, stared at how I am about to be angry Aishat for another four years.
Olanrewaju Aishat Omotola, stared back at me.
I hate being Aishat. I have tried to be Omotola once and Olanrewaju can become a new beginning so I gave them my name as Olanrewaju.
So what has made me dissect how I have come to bear my surname like there are no better things to talk about or how I could share how much you guys have missed since the last time I wrote?
It is the people that refuse to respect people's choices.
Why are you bearing Olanrewaju? Is it not your father's name? Do you prefer bearing a man's name to bearing your first name?
Then statements like, I know your parents cannot be wicked. You just made it so because you want to be different so bad— this came when I cut my hair, which is a story for another day.
To answer the questions that are constantly raised, the first many paragraphs explain why I bear Olanrewaju. It is not my father's name nor is it my grandfather's, it is a name of the man that has gone so many years before my father came into being. Yes, I prefer bearing wealth is moving forward to my first name.
As a society, we need to respect the choices of people because we know not of the decisions that came with it.
I have come to embody my chosen name — I could have chosen another name — because it feels so right and in a way translates that I am moving forward. Wealth in this name stands as Aishat.
My name, Olanrewaju, means Aishat is moving forward.
It is so because I stopped being angry.
It took me eight ght years to get here, respect it.