There are seven days a week. For the five days I'm in school, if my name is called at least once in each class, my name is said at least eight times that day. If we add the weekend, my name is called at least 60 times per day for me to do something, so if we multiply and add that all up together, and I mean, I'm no mathematical genius, that would approximately equal 17,680 times a year my name is called. When I was 12, I couldn't stop myself from doing these calculations. I felt annoyed by the sheer amount of times my family members mentioned my name. I felt like my name had become not a symbol of identity but a mere nuisance that grew worn like an old shirt a person should throw away. I thought of different names I could have that nobody but me would know; I would feel like my name was my own and not everyone else's.
"Nancy, help me fill out this application," "Nancy, do the laundry," "Nancy, can you wash the bowls," "Nancy, can you pick up your brothers from school?" "Nancy, help me with my homework." Whenever I heard my name in my house, it felt like I had to wait for the command/demand that proceeded right after it. My name felt saddled with burdens I did not want to shoulder. As the oldest and only daughter in an African household, my name held more responsibilities than my brothers. My name had more expectations: excelling in school, being reliable, being a crutch, being the secretary, being the cable guy, the IT guy, and being a good Christian. I couldn't help but compare myself to my brothers, whose names were called a nominal amount in comparison. It was always my name first and their names second. I couldn't help but think my life would be easier if I were a Nathaniel instead of a Nancy. My name would be called less, the responsibilities placed on me would be less. If my name were Nathaniel, my name would feel like my own, and I would love it.
As I grew older, some of my family responsibilities fell to my brothers as I became preoccupied with various school activities. They did not take the responsibilities as gracefully as I did. They complained, "Why can't Nancy do this?" with every chore. In those moments, I realized that although my name was jaded and weary, the conditions of it taught me so many things that are an intrinsic part of me. Nancy doing the laundry meant Nancy learning patience and persistence when the machine broke down and she had to start the wash all over again. Nancy helping her brothers with homework meant becoming a mentor and a guide in the ways her parents could not be. Nancy helping my parents fill out applications meant becoming a teacher so her parents could learn. It was a reminder that sacrifice was integral in building authentic relationships. "Nancy, can you wash the dishes?" was not a mere task but a lesson in the ownership of my environment. It emphasized the importance of taking responsibility for the space I inhabit and how it affects others around me.
Through this understanding, I began to understand my parents more; this was their way of teaching me to be well-balanced and hardworking. Though these responsibilities were obligations I wanted to run from, they are the very things that molded me into a person who overcomes challenges instead of letting them overcome me. As I head into higher education, there will be many obstacles I will overcome, but I know I will be able to face them head-on. Nathaniel might be a nice name, but nothing compares to Nancy Owusu. Nancy Owusu ’28
This essay worked because we get a really great sense of Nancy's growth, maturity and storytelling ability. She uses repetition of her name throughout the essay to help the reader see exactly what she hears: her name, over and over and over. Rather than using a lot of words to spell out her dissatisfaction with the responsibilities of being Nancy, the oldest and only daughter in her family, she gets to the point in an amusing but heartfelt way: pondering how a change of name and gender would change her circumstances. By wrapping it up with a genuine appreciation for the many skills she has learned, she lets us know she is patient, appreciative, understanding and responsible. In other words, she is Nancy.