I put ‘Sammyfish’ on the back of my jumper. Not because that was a name I went by, not because it was a clever pun. But for reasons nonetheless. I chose ‘Sammyfish’ for my year 8 self. Our homeroom cohort that even now still forms the basis of my friendship group, despite the transitions and permutations of time. For periods spent in the corner and lying on the floor playing Moshi Monsters (and accidentally establishing it as an actual thing), for maths classes filled with singing, for obvious carrots and ~gender equity~. For the sense of being a child, and feeling secure in my place.
I chose ‘Sammyfish’ for the occasional use of that name in affectionate moments, but also for ‘Sammy-O’, for ‘Sammi’, for ‘Sammy’ (and ‘Sammy’, and ‘Sammy’). Nicknames I treasure in my heart of hearts but which using would have been far too revealing, far too honest. With ‘Sammyfish’, I could carry all those messages of love, affection, and support, while passing it off as my ‘silly’ Moshi Monsters username.
I never wanted ‘Sam’, and ‘Samantha’ wasn’t in the spirit of rugby jumpers anyway. Sometimes I regret using ‘Sammyfish’, because it feels strange to walk around with such precious memories emblazoned on my back. But it’s there for a reason, several in fact, and reasons I’ve never truly been conscious of before.
My name is not ‘Sammyfish’. My name has never and will never be ‘Sammyfish’. But, in hindsight, it was the perfect choice. It carries the spirit of highschool within it. From the laughter and silliness to the hidden comfort and light. I don’t think I could have chosen a better name if I tried.
