It's Kiley.

True life: The priest called me "Riley Katharine" at my baptism.

True life: The library calls to tell me that "Killy K. Burns" has an overdue book.

True life: My dad's cousin and his wife address their Christmas cards to "Rich, Camilla, Kylie, and Ryan" every year.

True life: The Starbucks barista wrote "Kyle" on my hot chocolate.

My name is Kiley.  Pronounced exactly how it's spelled.  Spelled exactly how it sounds.

People tell the stories of how their parents couldn't decide on a name for them or how they were almost "a Rachel" or  "a Connor."  I have always been Kiley.  From the moment Camilla (my mom) found out she was having a baby, she knew that I was going to be Kiley.  Not just "a Kiley" but Kiley.  Kiley is Camilla's maiden name.  That's why it's spelled the way it is, and that is what makes me unique.

When thinking about the meaning of a name, most people overlook the spelling and focus on from where it was derived.  For me, those go hand in hand.  The Kiley family originates in rural Missouri. That's where I spend part of my summers- a town of 132 people called Baring, Missouri where Camilla and her six siblings were raised by Joe and Elizabeth Kiley.  To me, my name represents my family.  It represents caos and OCD and laughter and bad hips and the hypocrisy of showing up late yet criticizing others who do the same. I guess that is why I am so anal about people spelling it correctly.

My name and its meaning suits me.  I am fiercely independent-minded (like the uniqueness of my name's spelling), but still rely on the support of my family (like my name's origin).  I have no problem being defined by my name.  I have this theory that Camilla gave me this name as a way for her to maintain her individuality in marriage. My first name ties me back to her side of the family, while my last name, Burns, ties me to my dad's side.  If I do decide to get married and change my last name, I will still be named Kiley, and I will still serve as that representation of where I come from and carry that on for my mom.  Well-played, Camilla.

Being a part of a team is the greatest example of the conflict between individuality and being part of a whole.  It's the constant struggle between choosing between what benefits the team and what benefits you.  I struggled with this during my time on the Varsity Volleyball team here at Millbrook.  By no means was I the best on the team, and thus did not get a lot of playing time.  It was incredibly frustrating, and I got to the point where I had no desire to maintain my good work ethic.  I was torn between possessing an attitude of indifference and maintaining my positive attitude for the benefit of my teammates.

In volleyball especially, one bad apple spoils the whole bunch.  Attitude affects play and the success of the team is dependent on the play of all of its players.  Though I was frustrated with my experience on the team, I had to get over it and avoid bringing down the team.  I represented Millbrook.  I had to be the loudest one on the bench, and I had to give 110% those times when I did play because the season is about the whole. The off-season is about the individual.

What Makes an "Other"

From Wing Young Huie's Album We are the Other (2012-2013)
Accessed September 5, 2014

We see it in TV shows and in movies- the stereotypical African-American church. Usually it is contrasted with scenes of white folks conversing as they walk out of a different church after Sunday's service.  I've see this in The Help, obviously because it takes place in Mississippi in the 1960s, but I also see it when I watch the reality show Preacher's Daughters on Lifetime, which takes place today. Upon looking at this photograph, you see a church service populated by African-Americans.  There are those dressed casually and those dressed up.  There are those flying solo and  then there are those with spouses and children.  Some are standing, and some are sitting. Everyone looks pretty comfortable and content.  Not too complicated, right?

Now let's address the elephant in the room: the sole white person in the entire room.  I don't know about you, but this is not something I tend to see in the TV shows depicting the stereotypical African-American church.  She stands out predominantly because she is white, but also because she is the person who seems most into the service.  This brings forth my observation earlier that everyone looks comfortable and content. This woman has her hands up, eyes closes, and rear out of her seat, like she probably does every week  No one else is paying much mind to her. She may stand out, but she also fits in.

There is nothing wrong with this scene; it's just unique.  Huie did not take this photo so that we can wonder where on earth this white woman thinks she is, but rather so that we will notice how confident she is in herself.   Huie presents the concept of "othering" just by having this white woman as the primary focus of this picture.  Her skin color is different than everyone else's in the room; therefore, we classify her as "different." Humans are social animals and find comfort in establishing a presence in a group. One of these groups has been race.  The African-American woman on the left-hand side of the photograph smiling at the camera is looked over.  The adorable baby with the giant white flower headband is looked over.  We see the "other" in the room: the white woman.

Atwood displays "othering" by classifying women based on what they wear.  The most significant "others" (maybe a little pun intended) are the Handmaids.  They stand out because they wear red.  They're humans, just like everyone else around them.  They're women, just like everyone else who is being oppressed.  But they wear red.  Similar to how one would view Huie's photograph, if a Handmaid walks into a room, everyone notices her.  Not because she is doing anything especially extraordinary or horrific, but rather because of her appearance.  The "others" become "others" because of the connotations that are attached to appearance.