Why I am Gabs

As a PR Pro, I get requests from reporters throughout the day. A recent one was titled, "I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT!" I was immediately intrigued. I responded with the story of my name and thought I'd share it here too:

My name is Gabrielle. My mom taught me, from day one, that I should NOT, under any circumstance let anyone call me "Gabby." She HATES that name but named me Gabrielle anyway because she loved its multi-lingual ability. She named my sister Victoria, for the same reasons, with the same rule that we should never be called "Vicky." Before I could defend myself, my mom would caution others to use my full name. When I started speaking, I would quickly jump at the chance to correct people that my name was, in fact, Gabrielle and not Gabby.

This name was tough for other little kids to pronounce, but they eventually figured it out. Sometime when I was little, my dad started calling me "Gabs," then, when I was 8 I made a new friend who gave me the same nickname. My mom didn't protest and I started liking it's soft quality and uniqueness. However, this was a name reserved for my daddy and best friend and my same instinct that kept others from calling me Gabby jumped at the opportunity to let others know that they still needed to call me Gabrielle.

In high school, more people started hearing me being called "Gabs" and took the name on for me. It was either let them call me that, or take on "Schaefer" (my last name) that my history teacher insisted on. Gabs was much more feminine and personal. And who doesn't want to feel connected in high school, the way a nick name allows?

By high school graduation I was Gabs -- my mom and grandma had even transitioned. And, for my new little brother, 15 years my junior, the name Gabs was much easier to teach than Gabrielle was to teach to my sister who grew up in California with a mysterious Brooklyn accent.

So, as I entered the intern world and minimum wage world, and took off for college, I was "Gabs." Now, I had a nickname that can't stand as a name on its own and had to teach people, once again, what to call me. I was at a point where my whole world knew me as Gabs and I hardly responded to Gabrielle, except when substitute teachers were calling roll (although they normally called out "Gabriel" instead and were shocked when a girl said "here.)" I quickly had to tell people to please call me Gabs, to avoid the Gabby debacle all over again.

By the end of college, I was Gabs again, called "Gabrielle" by my best friend and college roommate who wanted to call me something "special." Then, I entered the work force. This time, Gabs clicked quickly. I have no idea why, but I'm thankful. I took on a first job out of school while I searched for my 'real job.' The day I went to interview for that job, he told me "Remember to make them call you Gabrielle, not Gabs." That shocked me a little but reminded me that the name I call my own is not, in fact, a real name.

However, people wanted my nickname again and now I even sign emails to the President of our company as "Gabs," but have to remember, when emailing clients and vendors to spell out my full name so they don't think I'm a freak with a half name.

There are a few stragglers who still call me "Gabby" but for some reason, from certain people, it's tolerable. Although, I hope those people never get caught saying it in front of my mother!

So, after 23 years, I've become my nickname, "Gabs," and don't think I'll ever be Gabrielle, and will definitely never be "Gabby" again.

So please remember, I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT!

xoxo

Gabs