The Story of My Name


In early 2020, before the pandemic truly hit, Salmon Arm Arts Centre hosted the exhibition SheShe by Julie Oakes from Headbones Gallery in Vernon, BC.

Part of the show was a beautiful collaboration with Julie's granddaughter, Wren. The series of paintings stuck with me long after the show came down: the love, creativity, and concept graced every inch of my memory like nothing before.

The name of Julie's granddaughter stayed with me, too. Wren.

Something about the name struck me like lightning. It haunted me, not like a demon, but like the ghost of an old friend. It kept my up multiple times at night, echoing in my mind.

After months of wondering, it hit me. Maybe Wren was meant to be my name, too?

The day after I came to this realization, I told Tracey Kutschker at the Gallery, whose first response was to write it multiple times, alongside a drawing of a cute, fat little bird. That's what really did it for me. The joy of hearing the name, seeing it written out by someone else, referring to me, I knew. That's it. That's my name.

Wren (they/them)