A Legal Name Change: A Portal to Embracing My Whole Self

When I made the decision to legally change my name, I felt like I was opening something, maybe like a fist or a flower, realizing later it was more like a portal. It also felt like a gentle rain cleansing so much weariness away from me. It was an invitation to surrender to the challenges, surprises, and victories that helped me embrace who I really am. I believe it's important to ask ourselves again and again through life, "Who am I now?" and create shifts or updates reflecting the findings.

I didn't know what I was actually opening to or toward. When we make big life changes, I think we seldom do. We have beliefs, ideas that can't help but be based on what we have experienced, known. How can we form intentions or maps and ideas of what is brand new? Many people face such transformations, invited or unexpected, and like them, my story is woven with moments of struggle, empowerment, and change.

Understanding the Need for Change

From childhood, my name felt like a mismatched label. It often seemed foreign to me, lacking the emotional connection that comes with a true sense of self. The discomfort was not only about how it sounded, although that was part of it. I didn't mind my name; it was about the essence, like a guitar out of tune, and later, about the purpose of names in my family as I understood more of the untold stories.

A name holds substantial power. In a study by researchers at the University of California, over 60% of individuals reported feeling a strong connection between their names and self-identity. As a child, I began to play with different names, as if the right name would reconcile my truth with my label, and I would feel better, stronger, more of this, less of that. I played like this into adulthood until I decided it was time to actually do it.

When we hear our name, it feels a certain way, it carries a musicality, and it aligns us with the moment we are in. It connects us to our past, our present, our future. The way our name is spoken is a message of formality, love, affection, belonging, curiosity, unhappiness, approval or disapproval. Most of us have felt this. Feel into the times we are called our full name by a parent, or called a pet name by a friend or a lover, or the first time we're called mom. Mom is also my name.

I changed my name to Liberata M. Sinclair, and go by Birdi for short. The way Birdi came to be is warm, funny, full of love. Each part of my name - first, middle, last - was carefully chosen, as a parent does for their child, and even still, affection or surprise is a part of it.

The Exploration Process

Thinking about a legal name change initially felt overwhelming. How do you choose? I spent years brainstorming different options, jotting them down, and trying them out in conversations. I gave myself permission to explore this as a reality instead of the game it had been as a child, and it became a liberating self-discovery process.

I started with the names I most commonly used as a game in public, like when you have to leave your name at a restaurant. Sometimes, I tested names that reflected personal values and cultural significance. I explored family trees, where they lived. I thought about my heritage and spirituality. I felt the music or poetic rhythm in my name. I thought about social consequences, and potential nicknames that would or wouldn't be ok with me. I didn't want to repeat the same disconnect that had me want this change, right? And Birdi never crossed my mind, by the way.

After all of this reflection, I settled on a name that resonated deeply with who I was and who I hoped to be. This new name symbolized not just change, but a different way of viewing my own story. My own connection to my past, my present, my future.

I thought about Mowgli from Kipling's Jungle Book. He was raised with jungle rules and feeling at home until he discovered there were others like him. He was excited by the village of man until he wasn't. He was no longer the same, so neither place felt like home. He learned home was inside of him. I think we're all like Mowgli in one way or another.

The Legal Name Change Process

When I found a name that felt true to me (not Mowgli), navigating the legal side was less intimidating than I had imagined. I had been married and gone through a similar process already. I had a system to flip all my accounts and important life zones. Completing each piece became a step toward shedding an identity that was imposed on me.

On the day I visited the courthouse, my heart raced with both nerves and excitement. Answering the judge's questions and receiving the final paperwork felt as if I had arrived somewhere, and accepted a long standing invitation. The sense of relief washed over me. I felt home.

I also had a moment of panic and distress when I realized my children's birth certificates had a different "mom." I grappled with that. I gave them a certified copy with a raised seal from the court reflecting my change to affix to their birth certificates.

The Reaction of Friends and Family

As I embraced the thrill of my name change, I wasn't anticipating the various reactions. Many friends and family celebrated this vital step with such open hearts. However, not everyone was so understanding. Some were puzzled and some even mocked it. Some assumed I was running from something rather than embodying something. Shocking were the few who even insisted they would never call me that, insulting the name I chose, never even asking what it meant to me before setting it on fire. Others said it was strange at first, but quickly it actually felt more like my name than my birth name.

When I was really narrowing it down, I remember being at a restaurant with my closest friends and we were talking about it. For fun, I asked the unaware server: Do I look more like a Deb, an X, or a Y - he immediately laughed and said, "You're definitely NOT a Deb," and then chose the name I was most connected with. We laughed hard. Strangers get it. We are more into the vibe of a name when we have no history with it, like Mary Oliver carefully choosing words for her poems based on their energetic reverb and flow.

Part of the exploration was knowing what I didn't want. I didn't want to be called Libby, you know the way people love to shorten names. Liberata seemed to gravitate toward Libby, so I needed an alternate. I felt I couldn't proceed until I found ALL the parts. This happens to be my great-grandmother's name. She went by Lottie. I could see how she got there.

(Lee-bay-rah-ta) Take out some middle sounds Lah ti. But that was hers. I was already carrying on her name. I found my own, and that's it's own story.

I didn't expect people to be uncomfortable with it or to even understand. It was such a personal decision, this piece didn't really factor in, so I was a little blindsided. I was ready and did the reflective work. It somehow didn't feel like anyone else's to have big opinions about, only a learning curve. This change represented freedom - not just for my self but for generations before and after me, and an answer to the call from my soulful voice.

A couple long time friends felt they should be excluded from calling me "That" because they knew me when. I was surprised by how common this was among my different circles. They felt, "You'll always be Deb to me." As if it was an entitlement from knowing me WHEN, and to call me the name no one else would. I don't mind when people forget or slip. I do take pause if they feel exempt from a major life decision I made. It is as if they want to stay frozen in time. We get these tells in our relationships of who is interested in a vibrant, active relationship, and who is stuck in the past, unwilling to move into the present with a relationships of depth and width, let alone the future.

Often when we share our growth and changes, people fall away. We've walked as far as we could together, and that is alright, even if sad.

Also surprising is that my change motivated some friends and clients to reflect on their identities and consider what changes brought them into more alignment with themselves, There is always a ripple effect of some sort that consequential decisions have. Several people told me they have often thought of doing something like this but lacked the courage. Funny, I never saw it as a courageous act until they brought it up.

Courage seems to mean when we step into a truth, a belief, a cause that is worth a risk - perceived, imagined, unknown, real; combined with intentional action worth being uncomfortable for or one that creates an upheaval. There's a time telling aspect to a courageous act also - before this time, after this time, because nothing is ever the same - no going back.

I had a celebration, inviting everyone that was meaningful and connecting to my present. I had a ritual by 3 different spiritual leaders I had the privilege of knowing. I didn't know what they were going to do. I trusted them in a way that felt symbolic of the unknown and the future.

It was perfect, even if unpredictable. I realized it was like a wedding but to my Self: music, food, beloved people from all circles of my life, public intentions.

The Impact on My Life

Legally changing my name sparked a transformation that reached beyond labels, and was completely unexpected. It's as if all the other parts of me that were waiting for permission all started showing up at the portal my new name opened. It's a thresh hold still, even though I made this change several years ago. And, as much as I thought I had arrived "because I did the work," it also felt like I was starting over. I thought, like getting married, and all the thought that goes into that decision, along with changing my name to my spouse's (and back again), it would be a relatively straight forward process to "do."

For example, people know who Deb Miller is and seek her out, but it was unexpected that Birdi Sinclair was starting from scratch in every possible way - work presence, clients, neighborhood connections, interests. Maybe that was naive, but I knew I wasn't actually a different person, I was becoming more of the person I am.

Funny story: In fact, people who casually know my sweetie thought we had a break up when he would say Birdi and I, instead of Deb and I - and assumed I, with my new name, was a new partner! We've been together over 20 years, so that was pretty funny how awkward that realization was at times.

When I began telling people my name when meeting them for the first time, they got a look an their faces like a Spring breeze touched them. I was taken aback. My birth name never evoked that response. It's a good, sturdy name. Now, they thought my name was beautiful, refreshing. It was so interesting to feel how my name shifted the way people engaged with me. They didn't know that they gave me a surprising gift, something else I never thought about or expected.

I didn't think about coming forward with my experience, but so many people have shared that they also have considered doing this. This change inspired me to become an advocate for who are navigating similar journeys. I've met so many people who have changed their whole names, or would like to. I’ve participated in workshops and discussions aimed at raising awareness about the importance of names in our identities. In both legal, professional, and social aspects, changing my name shifted how I connect with the world.

Embracing My Whole Self

A name is more than just a title; it significantly influences our self-perception. This truth resonated with me dearly as I explored my history, religious roots, and cultures during my name search. The name I chose became a declaration of self-love, embodying my experiences and values, my dreams and actual existence.

It also aligns with a reclamation. I considered why I was given my birth name, and it was for protection. Gone were all the Sicilian and Jewish and German names from our family line. When they each immigrated here, there was so much danger and instability in being any of these things, so they abandoned their names and renounced their faith practices to keep themselves, their family, and their future generations safe. I learned how so many of my family had perished and felt they needed to renounce their faith in order to be safe. This broke my heart. They gave up their names, their spiritual community, their homes, and persevered through great fear, loss, traumas.

When I feel how they were trying to give me my best chance at "fitting in" and being safe with their new country and old hopes, I am grateful. When I look at the state of things now, I wonder how different these times would be if we learned each other's names instead of shaming and bullying them into hiding.

Each time I introduce myself with my new name, I experience a sense of homecoming, liberation, restoration. It feels like it matters, that the label matches what I value. It’s incredible how a name can reframe one’s existence and perspective.

Reflecting

Changing my name legally was not just a task, and it wasn't a rebellion. It was embracing the sacred in the every day. It was an opening that allowed me to fully engage my identity and understanding of others. I'll tell you more if you're interested. Email me and ask. This unfolding process reminds me that the path to self is often filled with challenges, but is ultimately worthwhile in ways known and unknown to us.

If you are considering a name change, take time to reflect on how your name fits with your identity - which includes connecting your past, your values, and your essence. It's never leaving something behind. We aren't erasing anything. We are blooming from a root, making new seeds, allowing ourselves the air, sun, water, soil integral to flourishing. According to research, around 25% of people feel their given name does not represent who they are. Free yourself to explore this courageous step toward finding a name that resonates with who you truly are if this is something you've considered.

When I made the decision to legally change my name, I thought about how many people crave such transformations or feel they need it to move forward in their lives. The rest of us don't need to understand the reasons. We can appreciate their self-care. We can be curious, accepting, and join them for the ride that is life, and witness their flourshing, or we can exclude ourselves. By judging, being rigid in any way about it, we are clinging to our idea of who they are, not who they actually are.

Ultimately, we all deserve names that reflect our authentic selves, whatever that means to each of us, allowing us to thrive and deeply connect with our true spirits, reflect our inner self outward, and even heal. Whether you are changing your name or some other important aspect of self, or if you are in the life of someone who is, embrace this exploration with curiosity, compassion, and care. You may all find it opens doors to a life you have always envisioned.

In Kindness,

Birdi

birdisinclair.com