Transcript
Rosetta Stone Advertiser (0:00)
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Dan Kennedy (1:08)
Welcome to the Moth Podcast. I'm Dan Kennedy and on this episode, two stories of unexpected gifts. Because tis the season as they say. They still say it that way. Tis the season. These stories are not about traditional gifts. In fact, our first story is more about a hard won lesson. Zannella Chisholm crafted the story you're about to hear in one of the Moth's high school workshops. This one was done at Beacon High School here in New York City. Here's Zanala live at the Moth.
Zanella Chisholm (1:48)
I was living in northern Canada in this small suburban town called Oshawa. I remember sitting in my first grade classroom next to my best friend, Brooklyn. She had these huge Goldilocks curls and she had the most amazing smile and I just remember hugging her so tight and it was like we were transferring the memories from summer into each other so that it was like we had never missed a beat and I had never felt so happy. It was like the way that the sun feels on your skin. And it was like my whole world existed right in that moment, right in that room with these people. With Brooklyn in Oshawa. This is where I belonged. And so my teacher, my first grade teacher, she comes in and she introduces herself. It's the first day of first grade and she's like, hi, my name is Mrs. Neals. And we're all like, hi Mrs. Neals. And she picks up the roll call. She and she begins to go through Our names. So she starts with Aliyah, who is the only other black girl in my class, goes past Brooklyn, and gets all the way down to me, Zanele. And she kind of hesitates for a little bit, takes her time, and that's something I'm used to because my name is spelled Z, A, N, E, L, E. And so there's always complications. So I wait a bit. And then Mrs. Neal, she kind of begins to sound out the names, like syllables as she's speaking it. So she's like, zenow. And I look at Brooklyn. I'm like, this girl just said my name wrong. But Brooklyn doesn't really have a reaction. So I'm like, okay. So I look back at Mrs. Neal's, and I'm like, oh, actually, it's pronounced Zannala. You pronounce my name Zanele. And then in that moment, all of the students fall over each other, laughing. Everybody's hysterically laughing, giggling to each other. And I'm looking at Brooklyn like, what's going on? And then they start to kind of chant one by one, and then all together, no, her name is Zanael. Zanal. Her name is Zanael. And I'm looking at them like, what are you talking about? And so I look back at Mrs. Neals, and I'm like, no, my name is Zannale. Zanele. That's how you pronounce my name. And they're calling me a liar, and they're saying, no, it's Zanelle. Zanelle. And so I look at Brooklyn kind of for, like, some sort of validation or some reassurance. But she looks at me like, what are you doing? And Mrs. Neals looks at me like, oh, I found the problem child this year. So I look back at her, and I tell her, I'm not lying. My name is Zanele. But she leaves the room, and she goes and finds my kindergarten teacher from the previous year. She brings her back into the room, she points at me, and she says, what's that little girl's name? And I'm looking at my teacher like, you're my last chance. You know who I am. Tell her my name is Zanalel. I've lived here for a year, which feels like forever. When you're six years old and you guys are my home, you know me, My name is Zanele. And she looks at me and she says, no, her name is Zanelle. And so I'm looking around, and I'm feeling like I've just been abandoned by, like, the entire life that I've known My whole life, this idea of belonging has quickly disappeared. And I'm just left completely isolated. And I realized that, like, these people had never even said my name all of kindergarten. I thought that we were so close, that we were beyond titles, that it was just like, you just know me that well that you don't even have to say my name. But they didn't know me at all. And so I went on for the rest of first grade being Zanelle and the rest of second grade being Zanelle, until I moved out of Oshawa and out of Canada and to America. And I realized that that moment in Ashra was not just a moment. It became the next 10 years of my life. Zanelle always being seen before. Zanele always being heard, always being noticed. And Zanele just seemed to kind of disappear. And so a couple weeks ago, I was feeling like I couldn't do it anymore. Like this girl, Zanela, who's supposed to mean so much, who was given to me by my grandparents. And Zanale means to be sufficient, to be enough. It comes from the language Xhosa, which is also my native tribe in South Africa. And this person who's supposed to be enough, I don't fulfill that because look what I've done to her. She doesn't even exist anymore. And so I go to my mother and I tell her that I don't feel deserving of my definition, that Zanella doesn't belong to me. And I'm crying, and I'm hoping that she can say something to reconcile this lostness, because it feels like I'm just kind of sinking, floating away. And she looks at me. And my mother, she's also sort of kind of a nomad in her own existence. And she tells me that your name isn't something that you have to live up to. It's not something you earn or something that you have to try to be a part of. Your name is. You are constantly manifesting your name simply by existing. And your name will always belong to you, no matter what. And I look at my mother and kind of look within myself, and I. I agree with her, you know, Zanele, she is who I am. I am Zanele. And I may not always know what that means to me, but I do know that it means home, that it means belonging, that it means Xhosa, and that. That's enough. Thank Zanella Chisholm, everyone. Woo. On three. I want you to all say her name is Zanala, and she's an amazing storyteller. Can we do that?
