the useless etymology of a name
The Useless Etymology of a Name A Vignette About my Name and its History The meaning changes whenever I look it up. One day it means peace, another it means olive branch, and yet the meaning behind the meaning stays the same: peaceful, weak. Throughout my life, the peace forced upon me by my name has led to injury—emotional and physical. The moment I began to be referred to as Olivia, it twisted me. My nature was calm, demure, matching my name, matching my blonde hair, matching my pale skin, and my pale attempts at strength. It was not always supposed to be a delicate word. The name was stolen from my great grandmother, Lila. Her middle name was a mystery, only known as O. My parents assigned the name Olivia to it, and, in her honor, assigned the name to me. Only after it was set in stone was it revealed that the O I was named after was Olive, not Olivia. A disgusting, sour fruit that very few have a taste for. While the fruit was not fully assigned as my name, it stayed as
