In 2010, during the last Year of Tiger, I was 24 years old, just a couple years fresh out of college. At the time, I was working tirelessly for a congressional representative, having a lot of fun with like minded friends, and drinking a ton of alcohol because drunk Danielle was more bold, less serious, and still ignorant of the pain she held.

I smile gently as I think back to this younger version of myself. Thankfully, I see her so clearly now. She was still such a child, dressed up in fancy suits and accessories, trying so hard to prove her value to her family, her partner, and the world. But underneath it all, the incessant drinking and pursuit of reputation, she was just hiding so much discomfort being in her own body, in her own name.

The truth is, until recently, there had been no prior version of me that had felt at home in my body. In fact, I was rarely ever in my own body, because it wasn’t safe to be, so most of my experience living was quite disembodied, staying mostly in my mind or even outside of it.

But as I’ve excavated years of emotional trauma and began healing my inner world, I finally started to understand what being in my body actually feels like. And as I’ve started to feel at home in my own body, I have finally acknowledged how incongruent my body has felt with the name Danielle.

Danielle. Dan-yell. Dani-elle. Daaannnnn-yellllllll.

Oy, I cringe a little inside each time I hear it or introduce myself.

Since I was a kid, the name has never felt right. My sister gave me an American name on a whim when my parents asked her to. Being 15 at the time, she named me after a white girl she knew. From a young age, without words, I just knew ‘Danielle’ never quite fully captured the essence of my spirit. However for 35 years I’ve ignored my body’s feeling about it. I was more concerned about inconveniencing others to say it another way, the way I felt uncomfortable correcting my last name’s pronunciation which was its own journey already. Again, keeping myself small for the sake of others.

But I always got excited when people would spontaneously call me other fun things - Daniella, Danielita, D, Double D, DD, D-Money, D-Nasty (a personal favorite), and of course, Danny. These nicknames seemed to welcome the hidden parts of me, or the parts that couldn’t fully express themselves — my innocent joy, my playfulness, my light hearted nature, and my childlike delight for the small big things in life.

The more of Danny that gets expressed, the more and more Danielle just doesn’t make sense.

So, what better time to transition to Danny than the start of a new zodiac cycle for us ferocious tigers?

This Year of the Water Tiger will be welcoming major life changes, risk taking, and unpredictable adventures. Apparently, water years are about confronting fears.

Well then… hello fear and welcome to this cascading waterfall of life, Danny!

Danny with she/her pronouns. For beloveds who refer to me as ‘'hey you” or my Viet name or another name of endearment, keep it up! For anyone who does call me Danielle, I won’t be mad and I will appreciate your kind effort to honor the transition.

Please write a comment or share your story if you’ve ever experienced not feeling at home in your name and how you've navigated it!