It’s Coming Out Day and I feel like I’ve come out a million times, but this year has a new layer, just like some others have along the way. I had so many words to say about the new layer that I also needed a new space in which to say it. Welcome to a spontaneously created email/bloggish situation.
A few years ago, when I came out as non-binary, I spent at least six months giving myself permission to fully embrace they/them pronouns, to drop a combo that really only accommodated others. It’s taken considerably longer to allow myself to even consider fully embracing a new name for this better understood version of myself.
For these past few years I’ve simply shortened my given name and made do, but as I grew closer and close to completing my conversion to Judaism, I suddenly had permission to think about a name for myself in another way: choosing my Hebrew name.
That process of pondering over these past several months allowed me to step into yet another new layer of being myself with a name that honored all of it… the Jewish me, the queer and gender expansive me, and the reclaimed me, no longer carrying labels given to me by people who brought me into the world but never understood or properly cared for me.
So. Yaakov Akiva is my Hebrew name, but also my name name. I’ve started quietly changing it here and there, giving friends permission to finally start using it after listening to my endless wrestling, and finally getting to share the gorgeous art some of them created for me and my name. (Thank you Jay and Leia! I love you both!) Look at these amazing creative works based on my new name:
The thing that made it infinitely less scary was navigating this year’s local High Holiday services as Yaakov, hearing my Rabbi introduce me as Yaakov when calling me to the bimah, and then my instinctive (!!!) turn to a loud whisper of “Yaakov!” by someone passing me a coveted recipe as I walked into Shabbat service Friday night.
I spent Elul cracking open wide enough to realize that the person I would be upon reassembly was ready for a new name, and the one I chose (Yaakov) reflects my desire to honor Jacob, one of the original wrestlers, one who also came out of his wrestling with a new name, whose role within his family was complicated and isolating, who carried a heavy responsibility within his lineage. I choose Akiva as well, partly for Rabbi Akiva, who began his Jewish studies at age 40, which is the age at which I found Judaism and began my own studies.
Seeing today’s date and others sharing their stories prompted me to finally name what has been a gradual emerging until now. I have wrestled enough. I have worried enough. I have taken each of my steps to this moment with great intention. I have turned and turned again the tapestry of reasons, and all that’s left to do is speak it clearly:
My name is Yaakov. Maybe it always has been. Maybe it finally is. Maybe it won’t be forever. But in this moment it is, and it feels like home.
Rooting for (and with) you,
Yaakov