Yanan
By: Rosaline Dou
When I was 16, I moved to the US and renamed myself “Rosaline.” In my hometown, Wenzhou, China, my teachers told me I needed an English name when studying in an English-speaking country to avoid having an outsider status. So, when my plane touched down in Cleveland, OH, I told everyone “I am Rosaline.” I wanted a less popular name, and I finally chose "Rosaline" because its meaning of soft and tender resonated. I saw it as a fresh start, an opportunity to fit in.
Despite my name, people still saw me as this quiet Chinese girl, not speaking out much, following all the rules, and living cautiously every day. I was, indeed, quiet. I did more listening than speaking, was alone more than not, and rarely expressed myself as confidently as I did back home. Sometimes, I think “Rosaline” disguised who I really am as “Yanan.” Once in my school’s mentor group, we were asked to write one adjective to describe each other on a Post-it note. When I collected my notes, all I saw was “quiet,” “kind,” “kind?” “nice!” “quiet?” “nice.” I was disappointed. Nobody actually knew me, but I didn’t feel “quiet” inside.
The name “Rosaline” was a barrier between me and others. People see me as this kind and silent girl but I am more than that. My name “Yanan” is another side of me that is unseen by them. Ya means the gracefulness that my parents wish me to have. Nan is from Nanxi River that runs through a county of my hometown, Wenzhou. It is where my veteran father saved people from a forest fire the day I was born. My father was quiet, never telling anyone about his bravery. I too wish to be like that. There is much strength and contemplativeness in my name "Yanan". Its uniqueness allows me to fully embrace myself. Changing my name helped me realize how important “Yanan” is to me. “Rosaline” is the way I assimilated to American culture, but it ended up changing the true "Yanan".
I am still a quiet girl as “Yanan,” but not the “quiet” understood by the old me as timid. Being quiet is my invisible strength, one which holds all my power. It allows me to listen and stay open-minded. It offers me the moment to pause and ponder. It brings me, sometimes, deeper connections with people. I am more than some mere adjectives written on Post-it notes. It’s not about shouting out for what I want, but making efforts by speaking softly and authentically. It allows me to reach out to more people, to accept more of the world, and get more time to think and to process what I have experienced.
This epiphany about my name and the undiscovered strengths behind it gave me much-needed power. I’ve begun to refer to myself as “Yanan” more these days. Now, when I’m introducing myself to someone one-on-one, or when ordering coffee, or making a reservation at a restaurant, I call myself “Yanan.” I don’t know what it means for me. I might just be trying it out, or regaining a part of myself I lost many years ago. Sometimes, I tell people the meaning of my real name. It seems to be the way I let people step into my life and get to know me a little bit more.
The process of me realizing my own power in “Yanan" makes me understand what I value—being honest with and true to myself. What’s more important is that I want to know what the world is like and use my newfound power to make much-wanted changes with less pragmatism, but a sense of romanticism, and a bit of philosophical idealism.