A Jennifer in California

Jenn M., 28:

I was born a Jennifer, but I rarely go by Jennifer anymore. I am

destined to be a Jenn with 2 N's. I have no aversion to the name

Jennifer, and at work many superiors refuse to call me by my nickname.

But anybody who has known me for longer than a day knows I prefer to go

by Jenn. Jenny makes me want to cry. There are 2 people in this world

who are allowed to call me by this abhorrent name; Grandma and my

niece Stacey.

I was born in 1981 in Oceanside, California. Mom didn't name me after

anybody famous, or after someone she once knew. She just liked the

name. My sister and brother have equally popular names (Michelle and

Mark). There were something like 15 Jennifer's in my graduating class,

and 5 other co-workers right now that share the same name. I find

myself turning my head to the sound of Jennifer a lot, and I find it

insanely entertaining when the Jennifer in my row, and the Jennifer

across the room do the same thing. We all smile accordingly,

appreciating the bond we share.

I don't remember disliking my name, just the fact that it is so

normal. I grew up being the oddball, the outcast, the child that

nobody understood. The art freak. The rebel. My name just didn't fit

my personality at all. But as the years went on, I became increasingly

more "normal" and I grew into my name. The fact that I'm a redhead has

been my only saving grace in this world of endless Jennifer's; it

helps keep me original and unique.

My goal of individuality aside, I love being a Jennifer. A Jenn. Never

a Jenny. And I have come to realize a name is just a name. I may have

one of the most common names in the country, but it doesn't make me common.

Birthday Blah Blah

I had a birthday last week.  And I wondered:  how many other Jennifers are having a birthday on this very day.  How many Jennifers were born on my birthday?  I tried to log on to Twitter to tweet that one up, but it didn't work and my head started to explode, so I went hiking instead.

I'm curious, though.  Any Jennifers out there have birthdays in July?  Specifically July 9?

And a project update:  I had scheduled a Jennifer Project photo shoot in Seattle for July 18.  I had one person respond to my request, so I decided to cancel the shoot this month.  I need some time to formulate a new plan...

It's been great hearing from Jennifers from around the world, sharing their stories of name frustration, identity challenges, etc.  I am hoping to weave these stories into a play, novel, book, something at some point.

I am committed (to myself anyway) to put together a Jennifer Project photo exhibit.  I have 7 Jennifers' portraits, and would like to have at least 20.  I'm having trouble finding more Jennifers to photograph.

So, do you know anyone?  Are you in the Seattle area?  I'll come to you, sister!  Email me and we'll work it out:  coolchickphoto@me.com.

Hope you are all enjoying this lovely summer day!

Jennifer K

A Seattle Jennifer

Jennifer R., 42:

I’ve had many of the same experiences; a bad time with “Jenny” in first grade, nicknames Jeffiner, Conifer, and Refinnej, (spelled backwards,) and in ob-talk, Jobinobifober.  (That’s the one where you insert ‘ob’ in front of any vowel.)  

There were eight Jennifers in my eighth-grade homeroom, and the teacher just called out our full names. 

I love the song about 27 Jennifers – when I’m with my 9 year old son, we sing it at the top of our lungs when it comes on the car radio.  (“You could be the strange delightful one, you could be the sweet unspiteful”)

 

I was born in 1967.  My parents were going to name me Jonathan Scott, and my mother “just knew” I would be a boy, because to have a boy then a girl was “too perfect, just what I wanted,” she says.  When I arrived, they spent three days deciding what to name me, and Jennifer was close to Jonathan, and they didn’t know anyone by that name.  My mother hated the idea of me being called Jenny, so my father promised never to do so, and in fact, called me ‘Niffer until I married. 

 

One of the strangest things about my experience with my name is that when I was 9 or 10, my father’s sister decided to change her name.  Her given name was Ruth, and she had always hated it.  While I could understand that at the time, what made me angriest is that she changed her name to Jennifer. Just liked the way it sounded.   As we had the same last name at the time, I was furious!  How dare she take my name, even though she was then Jennifer Ruth and I was Jennifer Lynn.  None of the other Jennifers bothered me as much as that, not before or since.  

Growing up, it didn’t bother me much to share a name with so many other people, much in the same way that I don’t feel like I look like the person who I see in the mirror.  Even though I am very fair, I didn’t relate to the name or feel that it described me.  

I have always been such an (ahem) unusual person that I never worried about being confused with anyone else, although even now I sometimes get emails from friends who were meant for other Jennifers, or once in a while, a cell call from a college friend who confuses me with her friend, Jennifer H., which was the initial of my maiden name.  

Most of the Jennifers I have met have been very strong confident people, secure in themselves, perhaps from cultivating the girl/woman/person inside them to be recognizably different from the others.