“So how’s your name most commonly mispronounced?” asked Shawni, my friend’s sister. It was Memorial Day and I had been lucky enough to get invited to someone’s BBQ by my friend Dana.  As more guests jostled the metal gate to enter into the backyard, numerous introductions were made, followed by the customary enunciation of my name.

I looked at her intently for a second and replied “I don’t know, you know people have been mispronouncing my name my whole life.”

”People call her by different names,” Dana interrupted. “Debbie calls her I-dee ,..I call her Ay-day”

“Well how is it supposed to be pronounced?” asked Shawni.

“Like air in Spanish but with a d instead of an r.”

“Aidé. Aidé,” Shawni repeated in a perfect Spanish accent.

“But my family, including my mother, call me Heidi,” some of the other guests began giggling.

“How did that happen?” one of the women asked.

“I think it is the best way that my brothers and sisters found to anglicize my name, and it just stuck. In fact to this day, they enjoy calling me Heidi-Whitey.” And then all the ladies around the table laughed even louder than before.

In all honesty, I rarely notice the way people pronounce my name. Most of the time, I can tell when someone is talking to me, or about me; and for the most part I let people call me what they will or what they can, hoping that they will come closest to the best approximation of what my mother intended.  But even getting down to her intentions is problematic for me.  As the youngest of five children my siblings have important names that seem to carry their own familial and historical weight. The first set of twins (my family consists of two sets and then me), Alma and Saul, are named after people that none us children ever knew but are nonetheless important figures in the Rodriguez chronicles: My sister was named Alma which means soul in Spanish and Ophelia after my father’s mother who died at a very young age in childbirth. Saul was named after Saul Celis who was killed in a wild-west family feud style gunfight when he was 16, in my parent’s hometown; he had been my father’s best friend. The second set of twins, Emma and Bernabe (Bernie) are named after my parents.

But when I asked my mother who I was named after she said, “…I don’t remember if it was a Venezuelan soap opera actress or soap opera character…” Of course, I have no idea who this woman may have been on screen or in real life. And as much as I would like to know what Aide the actress looked like, or whether Aide the T.V. character was the charismatic protagonist of the telenovela, I find some comfort that once free of the obligation to honor their loved ones and themselves, my parents gave me a name that they simply liked and appreciated for the way it sounded. Like aire but with a d.

by Aide Rodriguez
San Francisco, CA