Hello, My Name Is _______

Like many people, I have two names- one English (Lauren), one Hebrew (Batsheva). Unlike your Rebecca/Rivkas or your Judith/Yehudits, my names are nothing alike. I was known to all except my Jewish Studies teachers in elementary school as Lauren from birth to age 13 when I went to the very religious Camp Sternberg.

Wanting to fit in with Naomi, Blumi, Faygie, Rena, Adina, and everyone else, I decided to go by Batsheva. And I liked it so much that it stuck. I enjoyed the feeling of inclusiveness that it gave me. Even more so, I liked the sense of Jewish pride and identity that it gave me. When my family moved from Charleston, SC to Silver Spring, MD and I began high school at the also very religious Yeshiva of Greater Washington there was no question as to what I told people my name was. I was just Batsheva. Except at home. Occasionally a friend would call after school and this would happen:
Mom: "Hello?"
Friend: "Hi. Is Batsheva there, please?"
Mom: "Hold on. Lauren! Phone!"
How I would pray my friend had not heard her. Sometimes friends did hear and I would have to explain that I had two names, and while I preferred to be called Batsheva, my parents sometimes called me Lauren. The jig was up when we all got our driver’s licenses. And when we took the SAT. And any other time that I had to use my legal name. When I went to college I had to register for classes with my legal name, so I became Lauren to my peers once again. At least in the classroom. At Hillel I was Batsheva. Which was all pretty confusing to people who knew me at Hillel and had classes with me. My good friend and roommate called me Batsheva, and would refer to Lauren as my “alias.” For example, if we had a class together and roll was called, she would say, “the professor is calling you by your alias” and we would giggle. She will never know how much that comic relief lessened this tension for me back then, and continues to do so now. The trend continued on through college, grad school, and my professional life. I have always been Batsheva to my close friends, and Lauren at work, the doctor’s office, and to the repairman (unless he is a Jewish guy from the community- then I am Batsheva, although my checks say Lauren… See how confusing this is?).

A few of years ago when I started an internship my name had been posted outside my cubicle- Lauren Liberman-Messing. The woman a few cubes down asked me, “Are you related to the Messings from Baltimore?” I said, “Yes, those are my in-laws.” She looked puzzled. I said, “I’m married to Shimmy.” She said, “I thought his wife’s name was Batsheva.” I sighed, “That’s me.”

My dual-name syndrome is something that I have had to deal with almost all of my life. How I have longed that my middle name, Rachel, was in fact my first name so that I could use the English or Hebrew pronunciation whenever/however I wanted. But I have accepted that to some people I will be Lauren, and to others Batsheva, and that is just the way it is.

Except to one special person- my little daughter. To her, none of this matters. To her, my name is Mommy.