My Parents' One Moment of Whimsy

“Androgynous”, she sneered,

admiring the glow cast

from perfectly picked cherries of course.

“What is that even supposed to mean?

 It’s suspicious, subversive

and all that’s wrong with the world today.”

I thought back

to less elegant slights,

consisting of sing-song almost rhymes,

because my name couldn’t even do that properly.

Wishing for at least a foreignness

that harmonized with rolled r’s and end z’s

if I couldn’t be an Ann, Katie or Sue.

Not a quasimodo mouthful.

Androgynous? Ambiguous!

Neither here nor there.

A halfling name for a changeling child,

a peculiar woman,

and someday an eccentric crone.

I’ve always been at home

slip sliding between worlds.

Shouldn’t my name do the same?

So now when someone says,

“Pardon, Sir or Madame,

I don’t know who you are.”

I smile and say,

“I know.”

Song Choice: Raise Your Glass by Pink

Process Notes: I saw writing a poem about using one's name was a topic a while ago on the Toads and always thought the idea was neat. I hated my name for the longest time until I got into an online political debate with a woman who made fun of it being so androgynous sounding (and implying its androgyny made my ability to engage in a debate suspect). That was the moment I learned to love it. My parents named me after Austrian actress Romy Schneider, but for some inexplicable reason decided to throw an extra "m" in.

Today's post is for the Tuesday Platform for Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads. Check out the rest of the terrific poetry over there.