When I was born, my mother was very disappointed. Not that
I was ugly or had any unsightly deformities. She was dis-
appointed simply because I was a girl. She already had two
children, a girl and boy, which were healthy, beautiful and
also smart. But she still wanted more sons, because that
was what the tradition dictated. Of course, she was still
a young woman and she'd go on to have many more children.
Unfortunately, she will have 3 more girls before she finally
had another male baby she so badly wanted. However, she
didn't know any of these things then.

As a matter of fact, I was an exceptionally pretty baby.
Everyone who came to see the new baby said so, and even
strangers on the street couldn't help themselves exclaiming
that I was the prettiest baby they ever saw. This was a quiet
baby who hardly ever cried. For that matter, she didn't smile
very often either. Usually, her wide, inquisitive eyes were
constantly taking in her surroundings, yet giving away
nothing. My mother said, "I was an easy baby."

Yet, I don't remember my mother ever giving me a hug or
a look that said she loved me, not even to this day. Why?
Because she never had. Oh, wait. She once told me of the
time when they took me to a photo studio to take my first
birthday photo taken. When they put me in front of the
camera, I wouldn't stay still and started taking hesitant
little steps toward her. How pretty you looked! She said.
When I asked her, "So, where is the photo?" She said,
"I have no idea."

Luckily for me, my father was a very affectionate man and he
was crazy about this girl child. He was the mayor at the time,
the big man of our town who was well respected and revered.
My earliest memory was being taken to his big office. He'd
settle into this huge armchair of his (of course, it was huge to
me since I was only 2 years old) trying to work, while I'd climb
all over his desk to his lap, then to his arm, finally to settle
on his shoulders holding on to his head. He never pushed me
away, not even once. He hugged me all the time.

My sister, the first born, was 9 years old by the time I was born.
She told me this later that she is the one who insisted naming
me because of a name she saw in a storybook that she found
so pretty. It is amazing to me that my parents would have
allowed her to name the new baby, although I have no problem
with that. I like it; it's a rather pretty name.

Still, my father wanted to give me a best name that could
be had. So, he took me to an astrologist. Note that I call him
an astrologist. He is a male, so they call him an astrologist
but if it was a female, she is called a fortune teller. Go figure.
There must be a difference somewhere… although the specific
eludes me. The man said, after considering the place and time
of my birth, studied my face (particularly paying attention to
nose and ears), little hands and feet, and whatever else these
astrologists do, then presented choices in the meanings of my name.

Asian names can sound same but have many different meanings,
depending on how it's written. When my father chose mine,
he was told that might not be the best name for me because
I am a female. If I was a male child, with that name, I could grow
up to be a great man, my name would resound and reach every
corners of this world, but because I am only a girl it would
cause great difficulties in my life. How do you like them apples?

Incidentally, this coincided with the town fortuneteller's saying, "this baby will have a hard life because of her beauty." But my father wasn't swayed; he wanted that meaning for his little girl. Because he thought I could live up to that name. Did I live up to that name? Well, it depends. Not the way the man interpreted,
but I like to think I have done so within my father's qualification.
The name means: Benevolent and Honorable.