First came the pronouns, then came the name.
I didn't dislike my given name. The name just felt very female. And since I realized I was nonbinary, by the very definition of nonbinary, I wasn't female. A name change felt in order.
I started looking at gender neutral names. One caught my eye. For some reason, I passed it up. So. Many. Names. I felt overwhelmed by them all. I thought having a system would help.
I'm Irish and Welsh, so I perused Irish and Welsh gender neutral names that start with a C. I figured I could change the C to a K and it would align with my previous name. My plan was genius! How could it fail?! It can fail if you don't like any of your options. I decided to return to the overwhelming list of names… Soon…
First, I went to see Brandi Carlile "and friends" at the Hollywood Bowl. My friend and I attended hoping that Joni Mitchell might show up. She did. And so did other "friends" including Annie Lennox. Annie was alive. Bouncing, exuberant, having fun dancing up a storm. She was 69 and relentless. If she wasn't singing lead, she was singing backup. She was supporting others on stage. She seemed egoless and joyful. I'm a child of the eighties and the Eurhythmics never failed to capture my imagination. And Annie? She was one of the first androgynous women that came into my consciousness. I connected with her. The suits, the spiky hair, the everything. Most recently, she kept appearing in my Instagram feed with political messages. Could she be anymore awesome? Then I remembered the name that had caught my eye at the beginning of my search: Lennox. I didn't know anyone named Lennox. There was no baggage associated with the name. Annie was the only Lennox I knew. Once I really considered the name, I knew it was right. It just fit.
Now, when people question my name. "Lennox?" "Yes, like Annie. Annie Lennox."
Could she be anymore badass?
