I have always been told, growing up, that my name was a perfect reflection of who I was. Alive. As a child my dad would laugh at my energy and tell me that i looked like the human embodiment my name.
My name is a fairly common one in these parts of the world, and I have friends with the same name as mine. It's always been a funny sort of thing, where to tell the difference between us, mine will always be pronounced in a clearly Danish accented way, and their's in Arabic.
I've never asked why i was named Aisha, I've just always known. My parents have always wanted to name us all after a role model we could look up to, a female we could have as a hero to us, and when I sauntered along into the world, they named me Aisha, after the wife of the Messenger صلى الله عليه و سلم. She is described in history books as a clever, bright woman, and I love the way it sounds on my tongue when I say it. It feels, bright and happy, and it sings of nostalgia.
Of course, when I was younger, I went through a phase where I wished to change my name. I adored the name Holly and I loved the image of winter-y feel it would paint when I wrote it. Then came the name Ulf. Bjorn. Tala. And I kept imagining how my name would sound like if it were different. I loved names with the letter J in the start, and I hated the ع in my name. I'd always try to practice writing it, but try as I must, I never could perfect that letter.
My favourite thing about my name is the way my family says it. It sounds lilting, like a swing, and in their Jordanian accent, the hard 'a sound slides into a 'y' sound. عيشة (aysheh).
At the end of the day, Aisha will always be my name, and it will always reflect me and who i am, alive and living.
i cannot write non fiction memoir like. this was a monster to write