Hello. My name is Ada.
My name is Ada. Not Aida, not Adah – Ada.
I've been wrestling with something quite personal, and it's time I shared it properly.
Ada is the title given to every firstborn Igbo daughter. When people from my heritage hear it, they immediately know something fundamental about who I am and where I sit in my family line.
But somewhere along the way, I let that slip through my fingers.
The compromise.
Back in secondary school, I got so tired of people mispronouncing my name that I added an 'H' to make it easier for everyone else. Adah seemed to roll off English tongues more readily.
The irony wasn't lost on me – in trying to preserve the sound, I completely changed the meaning. I traded my ancestral title for convenience.
The awakening.
As I've been diving deeper into my Igbo culture and exploring what it means to show up authentically in my work around vulnerable authority, this has been weighing on me properly.
How can I speak about authenticity when I've been walking around with a modified version of my own identity?
Names carry legacy. They carry the dreams and intentions of the people who chose them for us. When I changed the spelling, I didn't just alter some letters – I severed a connection to every Ada who came before me.
The return.
So I'm coming home to Ada. Properly this time.
The legal side is complex – especially with my book about to come out. But I've decided to do something quite deliberate: keep Adah Parris as my pen name whilst reclaiming Ada for everything else.
There's something powerful about this choice. Using both names creates a bridge between who I became for others' comfort and who I always was.
Adah Parris represents the journey – the years of adaptation, the compromises made, the metamorphosis of trying to fit in.
Ada represents the return – the reclamation, the ancestral connection, the authentic self emerging.
Together, they tell the complete story of transformation that sits at the heart of everything I write about.
The significance.
It's rather fitting that my work on vulnerable authority will be published under the name that symbolises the very journey from compromise to authenticity. The pen name becomes part of the narrative, not just a byline.
Perhaps it's no coincidence that this clarity about my identity has arrived just as I've finally sorted my book – name, synopsis, and cover are done. There's something beautiful about finding clarity on both my story and my name at the same time.
Sometimes coming home to ourselves happens in layers. Sometimes it's all at once. Today, it feels like both.
Hello. My name is Ada.
✨ Book announcement coming very soon.
What parts of your identity have you compromised for others' comfort? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
