Daily roll call was the worst, particularly the first day of school. I always had the one teacher who pronounced it “wine-er” in which case I’d have to correct him and say “no, it’s actually Weiner.” Laughter would erupt and my dreams of being someone who wasn’t perpetually associated with a hot dog would internalize themselves further.
So, I looked every where I went to find this name — this new identity. Watching the Simpsons for example, would illicit such thoughts as “Rebecca Marge, Rebecca Burns, Rebecca Smithers, Rebecca Simpson” and so on.
Identity is a crazy thing. A part of that is balancing what you’re born with and what would make you happy. It doesn’t have to spur crazy internal angst, but this is definitely worth a thought every now and again.
For an interesting exploration of a conflicted but comfortable identity, you might want to check out Siona Benjamin, an Indian-Jewish artist living in Montclair, NJ.
So… what would a Weiner do? Read the rest of Becky’s story here.