My Name is Maureen : DP
My name is Maureen. A solid, old-fashioned Irish name, which means the dark in Gaelic. My mother’s name was Breege Henry. We come from County Mayo in the West of Ireland. My Grandfather wrote a book based on local tales and I like to think while I never really knew this stern man, he smiles at my writings. I am his granddaughter: a Black Irish girl who writes as well.
I can’t ask my mother too much about my name since she died when I was 23. She was a beautiful, flawed woman who taught me to be tough. When I was younger growing up in Miami, people would be confused by my name. There were Davids or Rauls in my classes, but not someone with a strong name like mine. One kid told me my name sounded like moron; I kicked his ass by gently letting him know he was worthless on the school bus.
As I grew up, I found strength in my name. It takes a bit of character to have a strong, pure ethnic name. A name that held its own was what I needed more than my crown tattoo or my Chinese character for angel. Maureen let people know I meant business.
Maureen is a strong Irish girl who dances to her own beat, drinks beer, and will write you under the table. I will smile at you showing all my teeth, but secretly light candles for people who are going through a rough patch never expecting anything in return. Maureen connects me to my Irish heritage and lets me feel as if my mother’s heart still beats any time I feel mine is breaking.