Our name is not just a label; it is an integral part of our identity and sense of belonging, and it influences the way we perceive ourselves and behave toward ourselves, those close to us, and the world.
Janna or Rina?
We arrived in Israel in 1972 when I was six years old. Truthfully, I can’t take any credit for the decision—I wasn’t asked if I wanted to come. My family immigrated to Israel, and I simply came along for the ride.
A week after we arrived, I was enrolled at the “Israel” elementary school in Afula. The academic year had already begun in September, so I joined first grade mid-year (sort of). Since I didn’t speak any Hebrew, I was placed in a special class for new immigrants to learn the language. It didn’t take long for me to pick it up, and soon I was allowed to join the regular class.
When I transitioned to the regular class, the homeroom teacher who welcomed me decided that my name, Janna, wasn’t “Israeli” enough. Without consulting me or my parents, she unilaterally changed my name to “Rina.” From that moment on, for the three years we lived in Afula, I became Rina—on school rosters, during breaks, and at after-school activities.
When I try to remember how I felt about it back then, I don’t recall objecting. On the contrary, I might have even been pleased. The new name, so distinctly Israeli, was supposed to help me feel less foreign, more like part of the group, as though I truly belonged.
But did it?
Even with an Israeli name, I still felt different. As a new immigrant, I probably still had a Russian accent, and I’m certain my clothes looked different from what the local children wore. My European upbringing meant my behavior likely stood out as well. At the end of the day, despite the Israeli name, I remained an outsider.
Looking back now, I find the teacher’s decision to change my name without asking anyone to be astonishingly rude. A name is deeply meaningful—it carries personal power and is tied to one’s core identity. But the teacher didn’t stop to consider that.
For three years, from first grade to the end of third grade, I was “Rina” outside the house. At home, however, I was always Janna.
When we left Afula and moved farther north, my mother put her foot down. I remember her saying, “I gave birth to Janna, so Janna is welcome in this house. If you want to stay Rina, you can stay outside.” Of course, she wouldn’t have actually left an eight-year-old to sleep outdoors, but the statement was enough to make me reclaim my name.
And so, Janna returned—at home and everywhere else.
It took me many years to feel comfortable with my name. I’m not sure if it was because people struggled to pronounce and spell it or because the name change during childhood had instilled a sense of being “different,” a feeling I rejected, along with my name.
Today, at 58, I’ve made peace with my name. Janna. I even love it.
As an adult with more understanding, knowledge, and experience, this story has led me to reflect deeply. Questions swirl in my mind, fueling my curiosity about what psychology has to say about such experiences.
The Duality of Identity
Living with two identities—one at home and another outside—can create internal confusion. Psychologist Erik Erikson spoke of the conflict between identity formation and social acceptance, a struggle often associated with adolescence but also relevant to younger ages. The gap between “Rina outside” and “Janna at home” may have played a significant role in the sense of disunity in my personality.
The Impact of the Immigration Experience
Immigrating at a young age is a complex and multifaceted experience. Adjusting to a new language, culture, and environment presents significant challenges, but it also fosters resilience. In my case, the act of changing my name might have been intended as a way to “make it easier” for me to integrate into the new society. In reality, however, it only highlighted my differences and in no way did it make me resilient.
The Meaning of a Name
Names are intrinsically linked to identity, history, and belonging. Changing a name can result in a profound sense of loss—not just of the sound, but of everything the name represents. The deep connection between a name and personal identity cannot be understated. My name was carefully chosen by my father; it carried a story, a meaning, and a purpose.
A name is far more than a mere label—it is an integral part of our identity and sense of belonging. It shapes how we see ourselves, how we interact with those close to us, and how we engage with the world at large.
Unresolved Questions
If I were to meet the teacher who changed my name today, what would I say to her? How would I react? I can’t say for certain. I don’t have a prepared speech or clear answers.
I imagine I would mostly have questions for her: What was she thinking? What motivated her? What was her intention? We would undoubtedly have a conversation about the disconnect between her intentions and the real-life consequences of her actions.
Perhaps searching for her will be my next journey.
Have you ever met someone with an unusual name? Respect the way they pronounce it, ask them what they want to be called, and if they decide to change their name later in life, respect that. The choice always belong to the individual and no one else.
Hayadan. “Research Finds That Names May Shape Facial Appearance.” Accessed November 20, 2024. https://www.hayadan.org.il.
Eol: Meaning of Life. “Does Your Name Shape Who You Are?” Accessed November 20, 2024. https://www.eol.co.il.
