My name holds a unique attraction for most, though its pronunciation remains a struggle to many. Once, I loved the compliments it would gather from strangers, friends, and teachers alike. My mother always told me the importance of owning something so unique, that no one has heard, that makes me, me. She believed that uniqueness outdid the normal, favoring rare names and unusual spellings. 

Yet each time I type my full name, Julionna, a red line seems to appear beneath it, or my phone insist on autocorrecting it to Julianna. Even in Spanish class, I lacked a designated name. “Hulionna.” Bullies carried that with me for years. The bank couldn’t even spell it right on my debit card. I asked them to replace the A they had on it with an O, – Julioanna? Who the heck is that? I hated my name and everything about it. 

Now, I go by Jules. It rolls off the tongue like a smooth beach stone. It's easy to pronounce, and shorter than its eight-letter origin. Yet, people require to know my "real" name.  And when they hear it, they bubble over it, “That's the most gorgeous name I've ever heard.” “I would love to name my daughter that someday!” Those comments make me happy to have my name. My mother was right. A unique name sets you apart, even amidst the stress it sometimes brings.