A Page From Devorah Rose’s Diary: On Why She Changed Her Name
Dear Diary…
A rose by any other name
In this new age of blog and loathing, I find it funny that an entire persona can be created from third party accounts of situations and events that may well have never occurred. There is an idea of me that lives and breathes on the interwebs – on Page Six she gets into fights with Whitney Port at Rose Bar and on Essentially Emily she cries over mean bloggers and even in Page Six Magazine she dumps people with status updates. I could sit here and protest that I think Whitney Port is a lovely person with whom I have absolutely no drama and I could also let you know that one of the things that once angered Emily Brill was that I rarely read her blog. But I’m not going to delve into that now. I’m just here to explore a name…and strangely enough, that name is my own. It’s a motif that comes up on my Google Alerts and that seems to intrigue people for reasons unknown to me. It”s as if no one has ever heard of a nom de plume or had any exposure whatsoever to the universe of celebrity where nameplay is as pedestrian as the ever-popular consumption of Campbell”s soup.
So here goes, the history of my name: I changed my name, not legally, to Devorah when I was thirteen years old. This change was actually a concession. In fact, at thirteen I had a long list of French, Old-Spanish, and English names I thought were perfect for me. I felt that it was unfair that my parents got to choose my name. I was adamant that many social norms, specifically the practice of name selection, were archaic devices used to stifle our individuality but I’ll spare you the innocent idealism. The bottom line was that my mother wasn’t having it. And so, I changed one letter – the “b” became a “v”. It was genius! I had made up my own name!! I had never ever met a “Devorah”. And most importantly, my mother wouldn’t even find out since the change was so slight.
I had a plan – I would start small. First, I signed my name with a “v” but kept the same pronunciation. Not surprisingly, it went unnoticed. I moved on to phase two of my brilliant plan as I began freshman year of high school. It was a new school, new people, and I didn’t know if I would get away with it but I was certainly going to give it a whirl. When the teachers were calling out my name during roll call, I simply answered back, “It’s Devorah, with a ‘v’.” And so the first week turned into the first month and that became the first year. I have to admit there were quite a few glitches in this plan – my mother was less than thrilled when she discovered that all the crazy people accidentally calling our home were actually my new friends from school. Then there was the painful realization that I had not made up this name at all - in fact, “Devorah” is an ancient Hebrew name. As for the name “Wallis” - which you may have seen on my Facebook page - it is my aunt’s name (and one of my cousins as well). And if you want to get snotty, I’ll have you know my aunt headed the Kellogg Foundation project for literacy in Venezuela and is currently the headmistress of Santiago de Leon de Caracas – academically the number one school in the country. So to those who assign concocted Maryland connections to me: Feel free to keep your lovely Chesapeake Colony; I never claimed a stake in it.
I have to say that I am surprised I wrote this and also that I”ve agreed to pen a regular Dear Dairy for Guest of a Guest. After reading all these crazy ideas about a girl I am not, I have to agree – I don’t like this girl either. And so, I would much rather be loved or hated for who I am than for who I am not. And in the days and weeks ahead, you will all get a much better idea of just who I am.
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It’s nice to see that a native Venezuelan has a MUCH better grasp of English and grammar and narrative coherence than a certain ivy-educated upper east sider…
who is this person and why is she important? please tell me.
i don’t get it, who is she? this is weird.
AWESOME. I now love Devorah.
why should we care about your identity crisis?
WOW! You go Devorah! We love you at The Quest for “it” no matter what your name is. It”s good GOAG gave you this platform. You are a true DIVA That’s diva with a “v”!
Can I get some fries with that shake-shake booty?
If looks could kill you would be an uzi
You’re a shotgun - bang! What’s up with that thang?
I wanna know how does it hang?
Straight up, wait up, hold up, Mr. Lover
Like Prince said you’re a sexy mutha-
Well-a, I like ‘em real wild, b-boy style by the mile
Smooth black skin with a smile
Bright as the sun, I wanna have some fun
Come and give me some of that yum-yum
Chocolate chip, honey dip, can I get a scoop?
Baby, take a ride in my coupe, you make me wanna…
Wow! You go Devorah!We love you at The Quest for “it” no matter what your names is! You are a true DIVA that’s diva with a “v”
Deborah is ridiculous. Why are you giving her a platform to speak? I can’t believe that she even made it on page six. She is pathetic and now, by default, so are you. And….I completely believe that any non-neg comments to her posting are coming from Deborah herself.
Why do you care about this person? you guys worship random rich people it’s so weird.
First of all BLOW-girl, it’s Devorah. Secondly, D., you have NO ONE to answer to but yourself. Thirdly, don’t caste you pearls to the swine, my darling. Lastly, those who do not know you intimately don’t deserve to know about you.
desperation is alive and well. cheers.