How Chimamanda Was Created:
Names carry more than identity; they carry stories, histories, and legacies. They are not simply labels given at birth but are, in many ways, a form of assessment. A name can reflect a family's heritage, evoke a narrative, or even challenge societal norms. Historically, names have been used to frame people, events, and places within a particular context. For instance, the "discovery" of the Americas in 1492 is a name laden with Eurocentric connotations, despite its contestation by historians today. Naming defines a perspective and reflects the values of the people who bestow it. In choosing the name Chimamanda for my daughter, I wanted to encapsulate both an ideal and a tangible connection to a narrative that is deeply meaningful. The inspiration behind her name, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, is a central figure in feminist literature and a voice that has reshaped global perspectives on gender, identity, and culture.
Names are not etched onto our DNA. Though they can be changed or abandoned, for many of us, they cling to us until the end of life and beyond. By naming my daughter Chimamanda, I aim to give her a name that resonates with history, culture, and a profound sense of identity. Her name transcends a simple label; it is tied to a literary icon whose influence spans an entire generation.
Chimamanda is not just a name; it is a declaration. In Igbo, it means "My God will not fail me." It's a powerful testimony of faith, hope, and resilience. For centuries, Igbo names have been deeply connected to tradition. In the old days, men and women were often named after the four market days of Igboland: Eke, Orie, Afor, and Nkwo. Names like Mgbeeke, Nwanyinkwo, and Okorie reflect these market days, showing how closely names were intertwined with cultural practices.
Chimamanda Adichie herself represents the power of names and narratives. As the author of several critically acclaimed novels, including Purple Hibiscus (2003), Half of a Yellow Sun (2006), and Americanah (2013), her works have not only sparked conversations about identity, but they have also inspired readers globally to embrace their heritage. Her essays, such as We Should All Be Feminists (2014) and Dear Ijeawele (2017), have redefined the discourse around feminism. Her children's book, Mama’s Sleeping Scarf (2023), and her memoir Notes on Grief (2021) further cement her role as a prolific writer who captures both personal and collective experiences.
Chimamanda Adichie did not inherit her name; she created it. Born Ngozi Grace Adichie, she navigated a world that often required her to adapt her identity. In her early years, she went by the name Grace, since her mother shared the same name. In primary school, she was called Ngozi. However, as she moved to America and attended university, these names no longer resonated with her. For a time, she adopted the name Amanda, but it did not feel like her true self either.
On the verge of publishing her first novel, she had an epiphany. She wanted a name that reflected her Igbo heritage—something unique yet powerful. While lying in a small guest room in England, the name Chimamanda came to her. It was not a name she had been given but one she created, a name that aligned with her identity and the person she wanted to become. She decided to embrace Chimamanda as her true name, recognizing its deep cultural meaning and personal significance.
Her decision to change her name reflects her belief that culture is not static. “We can change,” she said. “We are not beholden to the traditions of the past if they no longer serve us.” Today, Chimamanda is one of the most popular names among young girls in Igboland—a witness to how one woman’s choice has shaped the identities of many.
For many people, a name is an integral part of their personal story. Names have achieved lasting power through the written word, immortalizing individuals and their legacies. Chimamanda Adichie has made her name, and by naming my daughter after her, I hope to inspire my child throughout her life. I want her to understand the importance of forging her identity, just as Chimamanda did.
When people ask why I named my daughter Chimamanda, I want her to explain that it’s more than admiration for a prolific writer. It’s about acknowledging a name invented to represent not only an individual but a narrative that defies limitations. It’s about the power of names in shaping identity, culture, and the future.
Just as Chimamanda chose to reject the conventions imposed upon her and create her path, I want my daughter to know that her name is a beacon of empowerment. It connects her to a legacy of strength, resilience, and, most importantly, the understanding that one can always redefine themselves.
In a world where names are often inherited, Chimamanda serves as a reminder that we hold the power to create, challenge, and name ourselves as we see fit.
Written by Daniel Okonkwo for Profile International Human Rights Advocate.
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