Your name carries a weight the world cannot give you.

There will be days when your name means nothing to the room you are in. When your ideas are dismissed before they finish landing. When your presence goes unacknowledged entirely.

But you come from a people who do not name children carelessly. Your name was a sentence somebody spoke over you — a hope, a thanksgiving, a record of what your family had just survived.

You were named before you were celebrated. You were known before you were recognised. The opinion of the room does not create or destroy that — it only reveals how well you know it.