I voluntarily gave up my name in 1992. It was an act of convenience, nothing more.
Until that year, everyone called me Kathy. Well, everyone except my bubby, who would say “Kathryn Mavourneen!!!”* as she squeezed my cheeks hard, in that grandmotherly way.
I had started working on a kids’ television show as assistant director, sitting in a control room all day – alongside the switcher and director – while communicating over the intercom with the rest of the crew in the studio next door. The floor manager, who acts as liaison between the studio and control room, also happened to be named Kathy. A Kathy in the control room and Kathy on the studio floor was simply not feasible, only a recipe for confusion. Being younger, I offered to give up my name, returning to the full given name of my birth, Kathryn.
And I never went back.
Of course, those who already knew me as Kathy found it hard to start calling me something else, and family and pre-1992 friends still, to this day, sometimes call me Kathy out of habit, unless they’re introducing me to someone new. I don’t mind too much, even though I’ve never really felt like a “Kathy,” chatty** or otherwise.
When I started working for Automattic and answering questions in the public support forums, I noticed a strange phenomenon. People there sometimes call me Kathy, even though my name is right in front of them. It threw me off at first. Now I’ve gotten used to it. You can call me Kathy, I don’t mind. Whatever works. Just don’t spell my name with a C. (Kidding.)
* Until today, both my mother and had always assumed that “mavourneen” was a Yiddish term of endearment. Only when I started researching it, did I realize there’s in fact no such Yiddish word. As it turns out, all along, my late grandmother had been very likely referencing a song written in 1837, probably this Nelson Eddy version, since according to my mom, bubby was a big fan of his. Apparently, “mavourneen” is a term of endearment derived from the Irish Gaelic mo mhuirnín, meaning “my beloved.” Who knew?
** Until Googling during the writing of this post, I had no idea that Chatty Cathy was actually a talking doll from the 1960s. I learned a lot today.