What’s in a name?
It’s time I come clean. My name is NOT Hailey Indigo. Technically speaking, it’s Hailey Indigo Petriccione, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, the Unburnt, the Mother of Dragons. (If you don’t know what you just read, I hereby declare you uncultured and prescribe you the first seven seasons of Game of Thrones. Do not watch the eighth, it will only bring you misery).
But seriously. I’ve spent the last four years going by Hailey Indigo, to the point where I’ve had people ask me, “Who’s Hailey Petriccione?” It’s still me, dipshit. My mother gave me the coolest middle name ever, in my own humble opinion: Indigo. For millenia, the indigo plant was a luxurious good used to dye the robes worn by kings and adorn the paintbrushes of talented artists. It was rare and precious, and for those reasons I was endowed with its name.
This is Ninja. No relevance to the story, he’s just cute, Photo courtesy of Hailey Indigo Petriccione
When I was younger, I was peppered with countless jokes about my colorful middle name. Adding “Indigo” to the last name “Petriccione” felt like adding insult to injury. I knew if a substitute ever stopped dead in their tracks while taking roll call, my name was up next. (FYI, it’s pronounced “Pet-ruh-cho-knee.” At least, that’s what I put on my graduation application.)
Though I didn’t understand it at the time, my name was shaping me into the woman I’ve become. I’ve grown into a free spirited woman prone to taking impromptu weekend trips to foreign countries and having deep conversations at the pregame. My style has always been slightly out there, from my signature kimono collection to the ever-present pop of orange (usually in the form of my extremely run-down orange plastic Birkenstocks). Hailey Indigo is the self my inner world sees, the woman usually covered in paint or rambling on about conspiracy theories.
The kimono x orange plastic Birk combo hard at work. Location: Vienna, Austria, Photo courtesy of Hailey Indigo Petriccione
But Hailey Indigo is only part of the picture — I’m a Petriccione too. I’m also a Marmetschke on my mom’s side. Yes, those are real names. No, nobody ever pronounces them correctly. Hailey Petriccione is the version of myself known exclusively by teachers, employers, and my LinkedIn profile. I like to think this external presentation is professional and put-together. Nobody has told me otherwise thus far, so I’m just going to go with that.
These halves comprise the whole that is me: Hailey Indigo Petriccione. I’m equally the adventurous eldest daughter jamming to music on wired earbuds as I am the future lawyer discussing investment strategies and portfolio diversification with my dad. This phenomenon isn’t unique to me, of course. We’re all a million little pieces of different interests & intrigues, just waiting to find the right crowd to share ourselves with. And when you know someone’s name, you know who they are.
Photo courtesy of Hailey Indigo Petriccione
Names are a powerful, magical thing. They subconsciously alter how people view you and how you view yourself. Names carry connotations to those that have borne the names before, serving as the link between you and your ancestors. Why my ancestors chose such absurdly difficult names, I could not tell you. But nonetheless, my name carries them with me.
Strike out,
Writer: Hailey Indigo Petriccione
Editor: Ria Pai
Hailey Indigo is an editorial director and writer for Strike Magazine GNV. She loves discussing conspiracy theories and thinks we should normalize not wearing shoes in public. You can find her meandering around campus, likely playing Clash Royale or talking to herself. Slide into her DMs @haileyindigo.
