Last week, I read Reagan’s article on the woes of having an uncommon name. Reagan brought up some interesting points about what it’s like living with an unusual name, but there are some unrecognized hardships that come from living with an extremely common one, too. For example, I completely understand what it’s like having difficulties finding a souvenir with my name on it. You may be thinking that I’m absolutely crazy. My name is Jessica, so I should be able to find personalized key chains or magnets with ease. The problem is that there are so many other people named Jessica in the world that they all buy all of the souvenirs before I can even get to them. I have, on more than one occasion, seen a space designated for Jessica souvenirs completely empty, with every other name section next to it full.
According to behindthename.com, Jessica was the most popular girls’ name in the United States in 1995, the year that I was born. Almost 1.5% of all baby girls born during that year were named Jessica. This doesn’t seem like a lot at first, but it’s huge after taking into account that only five other girls’ names (Ashley, Emily, Samantha, Sarah, and Taylor, in that order) cracked the 1% mark in that year.
On almost every soccer team or summer camp bunk that I was in, there was always at least one other girl named Jessica. I have been forced to adopt nicknames so that everybody else could tell me apart from the other girls with my name. I have whipped my head around, hearing people yell, “Jessica, come here!” and then have felt a massive pang of disappointment when I would realize that it wasn’t me whom they wanted to address.
And while my last name, Berger, isn’t exactly a common name like Smith or Johnson, I have met quite a few families with that last name that are not related to me in the slightest. What makes it worse is that one of my best friend’s last name is Berger, and we always have to tell people that we’re not sisters or cousins.
It’s difficult to feel special and unique when so many other people are walking around with your same name, and it can be easy to blame your parents for their lack of individuality when they named you. A name is supposed to be a specific identifier to distinguish one person from another, but I can never distinguish myself from most of my peers because they all seem to share my name.
But what I have found out is that, by sharing this common identifier with so many other people in the world, I can feel connected to them somehow. It’s almost like you share a bond with the people with whom share your name. At the very least, it’s a point of conversation. If your name is common, you can bond with every other “Jessica” or “Emily” or “Ashley” that you meet about the struggles of living with this name. And, in my case, I feel like I can relate to Jessica Alba and Jessica Simpson more than anybody else can, just because we have the same first name.
I have learned to accept the fact that my name is far from unique, but that in no way makes me any less special. It’s the person behind the name that matters most.