Grandmothers & Goddesses

My Name is Marya

I stood nervously infront of a new classroom.  A classroom full of other teenagers my age.  You know, the sixteen and seventeen year olds in their second to last year of high school.  We all thought we were adults and had no idea just how young we were.  Not me, at least I thought so, I had a good grasp on my age.  I had a lot to live up to, and a long way to go before I got there.

"Class I would like you to welcome, Maria Mayr to the class."  Mr. Winder said, he was my new homeroom teacher.  This was my first class of the day.

I winced slightly at the way he said my name.  His pronounciation was just slightly off, and he dropped part of my last name.  I shifted from one foot to the other and looked down at the tiles.  The black and white checkers stared back at me impassionately.  The black tiles made me think of Oma Lily.  My German grandmother would be disappointed in me for not standing up for myself.

So I cleared my throat and said softly, "Actually, Herr Winder, it is Marya Mayr-Hansen."

Names were important, my grandmothers taught me.  You had to claim your name.  You had to earn it.  You had to own your name.  I felt like I had a lot to live up to for my name.  I glanced toward my teacher and he didn't seem to mind that I had corrected him, though he looked slightly puzzled.

"Herr?" He asked, blinking at me, "Are you from Germany Ms. Mayr-Hansen?"

I smiled a little bit more and shook my head.  The German had slipped out, it was because I had been thinking of my Oma Lily.  If I had thought of Baba Polly, I probably would have called him gaspadin.  I ran a hand through my dark hair before taking a breath.  "Not exactly, sir, no."

My teacher tilted his head to me and I heard a snicker in the back of the room.  I winced at it.  Wonderful.  This was going to go great.  As if reading exactly how to make the situation worse Mr. Winder said, "Why don't you tell us a little about yourself, Ms. Mayr-Hansen, then?  Like how you know German."

I looked up toward the ceiling and thought about that question for a moment.  I hated telling my life story, not because I had a bad life or because I had a bad family but because people also made the worst assumptions.  So I took a deep breath, closed my eyes briefly and turned to face the students before me.  I put on my best smile, and launched into it, "I am Albanian and Austrian.  My mother was the daughter of an Albanian immigrant to Vienna."

I paused briefly and looked down at the floor.  The next part of the story was so personal, I hated sharing it.  I hated people knowing.  I felt like I betrayed my mother when I told it, but she would tell me I was being silly.  There was nothing to hide, well not much to hide at least.

"My biological grandmother was kidnapped and murdered when my mother was less than a year old.  My Oma Lily found her during one of her outreaches into the area of Vienna my mother's mother lived in.  My Oma and her friend, my Baba Polly, tried to find my biological grandmother but couldn't, and by the time the authorities found her it was too late." I paused and stared at the class.  Everyone had gone absolutely silent, and were staring at me.   Great, I had their attention.   I was certain some of them were pitying me, and some of them were getting ready with ways they could torment me with this information.  "My grandmothers decided that they would adopt my mother and raise her as their own daughter.  And no, before any of you ask, they are not lesbian lovers.  Just two close friends who took in an orphaned infant."

I rolled my shoulders a moment and fisted my hands together.  My grandmothers had gotten called horrible things simply because they took my mother in.  It always made me angry.  I pushed back the anger and continued with my origin story, "Anywise they raised my mother in Vienna.  My Oma is originally from Berlin.  She's a doctor.  She has specialties in genetics and oncology.  My Baba is part Austrian and part Yakut, Siberian-Russian.  She's an amazing chef.  She's opening a new Restuarant in town called 'The Summer Garden'-"