My Parents Gave Me an ‘American’ Name. Now I Wonder: Should I Keep It?

When I went back to Mexico for the first time, my relatives greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and a name I did not recognize.“Hola, Yarelli!” my mother’s family enthusiastically said as they embraced me for the first time in years.Yarelli?I was 7 and had never heard someone call me that name. My name is Cassandra, I thought.It was during that trip to Mexico when I learned that my parents, like many immigrants to the U.S. before them, made a decision in hopes of fitting in. They chose to remove my foreign-sounding name and pick another that was easier to say in English.Since the arrival of immigrants to Ellis Island in the 19th century, choosing a new name was a way to adopt the American life with a new identity.But the Spanish name I was born with still holds a sentimental value to me.My mom tells me she was reading the newspaper El Norte when she saw a baptism announcement of a baby girl named Yarelli, pronounced Jah-RE-lee, with a rolled r. She thought Yarelli Jaramillo Sanchez had a beautiful Spanish rhythm to it.  Continue reading...