I’ve never really liked my name. My first name, that is- my surname is strong and straightforward and easy to spell when booking restaurants, which is all one can really ask of a surname. It’s also a big improvement on my maiden name, which I’m not prepared to divulge… suffice to say that, though I’ve been married 16 years, friends from before this era still call me Chook. I’ve told my husband that should we ever divorce he can have the kids, but I’m keeping his name.
But, oh, my Christian name…. ruined forever by that blonde poppet from Ramsay Street. Though I had it first, everyone I meet invariably associates Kylie with the singing budgie. One friend called me “Minogue” right through Uni; another still finds it hysterical to suggest we do the Locomotion when we meet. When I worked in Scotland for three yearsa my patients could never believe they were being seen by a Kylie from Australia, and the first ten minutes of every assessment would be spent with them asking all the questions rather than me.
I’m sure my parents thought they were doing the right thing. They named me after the indigenous writer Kylie Tennant, and at a time when the name was still relatively rare. How could they have known what was to come? Though Kylie is an aboriginal word for a type of hunting boomerang, in my mind- and seemingly that of the general public- it is forever associated with hotpants and shag perms. Miles Franklin short-listed author Carrie Tiffany once described her own name as “ridiculously flaky”, and I know exactly what she means. When was the last time you came across a brain surgeon or Nobel prize winner called Kylie? To make matters worse, in the aged-care circles where I work a ‘Kylie’ is a brand of incontinence underwear. I, too, am lightly padded and very discrete, but it’s hardly endeared me to my moniker.
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When I was 8 years old I knew I was not my given name, so I changed it (by deed poll). I still love the new name i chose with all my heart - it warms me when I say it or hear it.
My parents were totally fine with my decision and trusted that if anyone was to know my true name it would be me!
If I had been born a boy, my father intended to call me Fuzle-huq, after a Pakistani General he came into contact with during his time with the Australian embassy there. Needless to say, both my mother and I were thrilled that I was a girl!!