flânerie?
What's in a name? A lot, actually.
My mother made sure I would mention her every time I’m introduced by giving me a name that has proven to be both blessing and curse. It’s immediately the topic of conversation. That said, at least I know the script, so my social anxiety is easier to hide.
”You must be Irish, huh?” Genetically, yes. Culturally, no. I was raised identifying as Spanish and Basque.
”Like Flannery O’Connor?” Yes, you read! Well done.
Surprisingly, only one man on a dating app has ever been well read enough to open with, “A Good Man IS Hard to Find, huh?” We became great friends.
I was, in fact, named for the midcentury American master of the Southern Gothic Short Story, a disabled Peacock keeper from Milledgeville who died of complications from Lupus at the age of 39. She set her sardonic sites unswervingly on the hypocrisy of both cultural extremes regarding the issues of her day. Her legacy as an integrationist is complicated by the views expressed in letters published after my naming, but this metaphysical mentor grants me an acute awareness of the brevity of this mortal coil, at the very least. Her fallibility reminds me to maintain my integrity in both my public and personal presence. Since first reading her at the precocious age of 10, her influence on my life cannot be denied.
My name has proven significant to my persona beyond the association with my nametake, though. My mother, a brunette, had no idea she’d birth 3 redheads with 3 brunette fathers. She had no idea my name meant “redhead“ in Gaelic, either.
Neither of us could anticipate that my raison d'être would prove to be wandering the Earth in perpetuity, so the fact that my name is a homonym for the French word "flânerie," the act of strolling and wandering aimlessly, surprised us both. It derives from the noun “Flaneur,” one who engages in flânerie, a term popularized in the 19th century for a type of urban male "stroller", "lounger", "saunterer", or "loafer". A female "Flâneur" is a "Flâneuse.”
Pejorative or not, the loafer fits, and I’ve chosen to wear it with pride. I outgrew my old brand ages ago. Having focused my energy toward this singular obsession, I’m ready to surrender to what feels like fate. I AM, after all, a wandering redhead, so Flânerie it is.