Becoming Amy Lee

Photo © Eric J. Smith, Observing Amy [Lee], Griffith Observatory; Thresholds @ Los Angeles Center of Photography, First Place Winner, 2024.

I was well into adulthood when I found out that my name was literally pulled out of a hat. 

I have one sister, not quite three years older; she has an “original” name, not connected to our family. When she was born, my father advocated for Belinda. My mother emerged with her choice. 

When I was born, Belinda advocacy was renewed. My mother had a clear preference: Amy Lee. The first name, a popular one at the time, combined with her mom’s name, Lee, shortened for Leonia. 

My father offered the only solution that made sense. Pulling the name from a hat.

My mother closed her eyes, reached into the worn Cubs baseball cap, and pulled out a slip of paper. 

“It’s Amy Lee!” 

My dad smiled, and one by one unfolded the other slips of paper. All Amy Lee. 

I’ve mostly been known as Amy, my whole life, although I experienced a deep connection to my grandma and midddle-namesake into my 40s. For the past decade or so, I’ve been settling into myself a bit more; becoming more Amy-ly, in new ways. 

2025 was a year of transformation, on many levels, some imposed, some chosen, some still in process. One aspect of transformation has involved expanding my name to hold its fullness: evolving more formally, from Amy to Amy Lee. 

Some friends have called me Amy Lee for years. Some family, especially my grandma, used it to make a point. In some cases, to signal that my embodiment is connected to a lineage; for better and worse, and sometimes not that great. Certainly the Full Name came out when I was in trouble, to underscore a parenting lesson. 

I’m looking forward to a more intentional relationship to my name, and identity, personally and otherwise.