What's In A Name?

This isn't about hypnotherapy, EFT, the Vimala System of Handwriting or any of the usual things I chatter on about in this space. This is about my being Armenian and an old button that gets pushed every so often.

I wasn't born in this country. My immigrant family took great pride in being Armenians in our beloved new home. Growing up, one of the most frequent admonishments I heard was, "Always bring honor to your name!" Because most Armenian names end in "ian," we've always been a rather easily distinguishable minority. I grew up understanding that if I did something wrong, it was a source of shame not only for me and my family, but an entire ethnicity.

Yesterday's The Contra Costa Times had an article about a young woman who was the first to be arrested in a grade-changing scheme on the community college level. Her name was recognizably Armenian and the rush of shame in my body was immediate. I get waves of it when I read the latest craziness one of the Kardashians is involved with. Hearing about all the Armenian gangs in Glendale and the need to have Armenian-speaking jail attendants there makes my blood boil. How dare these people have so little regard for their honor -- my honor!

Okay, Lucy Grace, calm down. I guess this is about my work after all: proof positive of the timeless impact of childhood conditioning. Maybe I should go tap on it ...