My Name Does Not Define Me.

    5,582 girls since 1880 were named Brisa in the United States. Now, a name like Julie or Sarah ranges in the millions. Maybe even billions. Yet my name, only 5,582. But, that’s not the point. The point is, my name is unique: One of a kind (or maybe 5,582 of a kind). I don’t know the reason I was named Brisa, which in Portuguese or Spanish means breeze. Maybe mom had a secret desire to be a weatherwoman or a sailor, and it showed in my name. Whatever was the reason, She never told me why she named me Brisa. She lead me to believe that there was no meaning behind my name when a four year old me asked her what my name meant and she replied “it means breeze.” To me breeze is wind, Air, Nothing, something that can’t be seen, and something that can’t be touched.  Then, I discovered the Internet. My beacon of light, showing me the way to a baby name website, where miraculously, there was something about my name. The name I thought no one else had, the name I thought my mom saw floating around her head in the air and decided to bestow upon me. Surfing through the web, trying to shed some light on my peculiar name, I found that it wasn’t so peculiar after all. 
     My name is of a Latin origin, and is the short form of the Spanish name Briseida. Briseida originated from Briseis, the Greek name of the woman loved by Achilles in homer’s “Iliad.” I don’t think my mom knew all of this when she named me, I think she thought it sounded pretty. To me, at first it was not pretty at all. And it didn't seem pretty to others either. I’ve gotten made fun of by too many people in my lifetime so far. One boy in particular got to me every time. He said I was named Brisa, because my mom felt a breeze giving birth to me, so she said, I feel a breeze, and sighed ahh. And that how “Breeze ahh” turned into Brisa. Miraculously enough, now that I’m older, I’ve gotten over the “Breeze ahh.” I’ve even bestowed it the honor of being my Instagram name instead of my normal “Brisa.” 

      My name is Brisa. Brisa Alexia. Everyone calls me Brisa but there's the Alexia too. It comes from my mom's name, Adriana Alexia. She claims she named me Brisa because she thought it was beautiful, and decided to add a part of her to me. Her Alexia is now my Alexia too. I guess you could say that makes us the united, similar. Everyone says we look really alike and our personalities are the same anyways.I found then that "Alexia" means defender of men. It's origin is Alexander the Great, and Alexandria, in Egypt which was named after him. I wouldn't say I'm much of a defender of men though, and certainly neither is my mom. 
      I am not an Alexandrian defender of men. Neither am I a calm whisper of wind. I am not the woman Achilles fell in love with, and I am certainly not what I would define as beautiful.  My name does not define me. A calm breeze on a sunny afternoon is not who I am. I am a storm. I am extravagant, loud, and a violent believer of my own ideas and philosophies. I jump outside of the lines, I tend to scream more often than talk like a strong wind howls more than it whispers. I am a darkened sky and a raging wind. "Breeze" does not define my boundaries. I am a hurricane, a typhoon, a tornado. But even if my name does not define my violent weather of a personality, I still am the breeze. Named as the opposite of who I am inside, yet people see me as the calm breeze that my mom wished I  would turn out to be when she named me (too bad that didn't happen). I am still Brisa, even if some days my winds are raging and I'm a hurricane waiting to happen.