I have chosen to be a musician for the rest of my time on the planet. I am starting this journey that will be the making of the rest of my life. Sounds dramatic but, at twenty-three, I am beyond the point at which it would be easy for me to kick back any more and believe I have all the time in the world to figure life out.
Truth be told, I have never had all the time in the world but I have been privileged, blessed to live in a part of the planet with a certain kind of hope that I will live a life long enough to get done everything I hope for. I do not overlook that gift; an accident of geography. But I also know that all life is short and precious, not to be taken lightly or wasted. That’s why I am frustrated by all the years I’ve spent in my relatively young life using my time in a way that was not mindful or dedicated, the time I’ve spent not pouring everything I possibly could into my passion, not working hard enough toward a great goal, not fully realizing that the love I had for the arts was worth throwing my whole heart into. Part of that time was a result of swallowing the lie that so easily permeated my heart: that there are ones who are fated to be good at making art and ones who are not. No one starts out where they will be. It seems like a straight-forward truth, that there should be no expectation of prodigious skill from the get-go, that everyone has to work hard to be great, and that no one else should give them a rough time for it and allow them to do the work. There should always be hope and support around artistic aspirations. Yet, not everyone has this perspective. Not every teacher is encouraging and mindful, not every co-creator is accepting and supportive, not every friend will see your growth. It’s a reality of the artistic world that needs to be shifted. Though I have been doing both for years, I have spent a good portion of those years having no overall hope for myself when it comes to my dancing and music - both because of my personal anxieties and toxic artistic cultures I have experienced. There are always times of spectacular personal joy, breakthroughs, and deep interpersonal connection. There are times where heaven speaks through me because what comes from my body, voice, heart is exactly what I or someone else needed and beyond my own ability to have created it by myself. It reminds me that I was made to say so much and I need to let eternity come on through, unhindered by my small grasp of what I can do. It has always come down to believing in the good - the joy over the fear, the truths over the lies, the inclusion over the toxicity. I accepted the fear that it was all beyond me until some things occurred in my life in a short two years’ time to show me that keeping silent is not an option, that music would be a saving space, and that if my heart is going to crack open, I should pour its contents into something that will hopefully serve the world and show it love, show it the truth that we are not alone. So, I am a musician until the day I die. I have chosen it and feel chosen for it. The work is ahead of me and everything I’ve kept inside will have a space to come to life. So much growth has happened in these last two years since my entire life changed, and I am so glad to think of where this all will take me.
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I would like to tell you about my name, this combination of syllables that are mine alone and make me who I am. I think that like most people, it has taken me some time to grow into my name, to wrap my head around it a little and see it as my own. Very few of us actually choose our names, the way in which everyone will speak about us for the rest of our lives, and I have certainly contemplated changing mine. But when I think about everything my name represents, I wouldn’t change it and I embrace it.
Hannah is my first name. It is the English form of the Hebrew name Channa - meaning grace of God - and celebrates the life of a woman whose one strongest desire was heard by the infinite and how the fulfillment of her desire changed the trajectory of her people forever. My mother chose this name because of her great faith in God, and my father had prayed very earnestly for me to be a girl. When I was a baby, there was a woman of Cuban descent who attended church with my parents and she liked to take me in her arms and sing that I was her “sweet poquita Hannita.” When I learnt to write, my first name was of course very easy to spell, though I remember the double N’s gave me trouble when I was learning cursive writing. In social situations with others my age, it was sometimes confusing whether or not I was being referred to because there were always at least two other Hannah’s besides myself. There were ubiquitous nicknames like Hannah Banana and Hannah Montana. Folks always mishear my name over the phone and in loud rooms. I end up being Anna, Shannon, and Heather quite often, as well as a variety of others. When I entered my twenties and my faith began to shift, I did not know what to do with Hannah. For a while, it did not seem to reflect the person I had become. Yet, when I look back on my life, I can see so many times where grace has been offered to me over and over, where I have evaded dangers and pitfalls, where loved ones have forgiven me and supported me. And so, Hannah seems like the right fit for me. Lucille is my second name. It is the English form of the Latin masculine name Lucius and means light. There are so many literary, cultural, and pop culture figures that can be associated with this one: Lucifer, the angel who fell from Heaven and is called the Prince of Darkness. Lucis Malfoy from the Harry Potter series. My personal favorite, Lucy from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. It is my paternal grandmother’s middle name. My mom put it with Hannah because it honestly has a nice ring to it and because my grandmother is an incredibly smart and selfless woman who all in my family want to grow up to be like. She is the matriarch of our clan, no doubt. I always appreciated being her namesake. When I first experienced The Chronicles of Narnia, I started making the connection between this part of my name and Lucy Pevensie, the young destined-queen whose joy in Aslan is constant and whose faith and strength are breathtaking. I have always wanted to meet Aslan amongst the dancing trees like she did. I once had a stranger say this name sounds like that of a god - I’ll take it! I’ve never had a quarrel with my middle name and I use it whenever I can. A light in the darkness. My last name, Emory, is an English form of a Germanic surname which means, “home strength.” My family are Irish-, Scots-, Viking-, and Germanic-descendant. We come from and are to this day fire-filled, independent, strong-willed warriors and always will be. It is not a common name and everyone misspells and mispronounces it. Yet, I find comfort in having a unique surname and one that is rich with personal meaning. This name will always live in my mind as a representation of the sacrifices my family members have given for the freedom of their people. I do not know very much about my family history past my grandmother’s lifetime and some genealogical information, but I have always had great pride in the military and law enforcement roles my family have played. My father and my oldest brother have been especially influential in my life in this regard, teaching me to live with honor, act with integrity, and protect the innocent, all values that they embodied throughout their careers. I am Hannah Lucille Emory. Thankful for this name and thankful for all those it represents. I hope I wear the name well. Thank you for reading. |
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