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Dr. Anderson-Camenzind presented this story at Story Mosaic on October 30, 2024. This is the text version.

Masks have been a hot topic at my house over the last few weeks. For Halloween this year, my 9-year-old son Fyo asked if I could get him a Ghostface mask like the one from the movie Scream. Despite my longing for just one more year of the likes of cute cuddly frog or dinosaur costumes, I tenderly responded to his request for the mask with an upbeat yet silently grieving, “Okay Buddy, if that is who you want to be this year!” After this exchange with Fyo, I can’t help but think about masks, not as something we hide behind, but rather something we grow into and try on for size. I also can’t help but wonder if our names are like another type of mask we adorn ourselves with as we make our way in life.��

Today, almost 20 years after getting married and becoming Erin Willer, my recent divorce not only has allowed me to return to considering my namesake, but to questioning the meaning of my name as a marker of who ����am. What mask should I wear?

I considered going back to my maiden name “Sutherland,” but as the meaning “southern land” implies, I thought doing so would feel like going back in time, rather than ahead or forward. I longed for a name that would capture the person I am now.��

One day this past May, my mom, who has recently gotten into studying our family ancestry, emailed my sister and me a file she had put together after gathering data from��. I opened the file and scrolled through, seeing the names, birth and death dates of several family members. I stopped on my great-great-great-great grandmother Susannah Liebhart’s profile. Liebhart stuck out to me because if there is anything I remember from my four years of taking high school German, it is that “liebe” means “love.” And if you know anything about me, you know there is nothing more true about who I am than the fact that I love, love. I quickly Googled, “meaning of Liebhart” to find, according to��, that it is a “Germanic personal name, composed of the elements��liub��‘beloved, dear’ +��hard�� ‘brave, strong.’” “OMG, a brave-beloved dear, that’s ME,” I thought! I returned to the document my mom sent and read that Susannah was born in February (like my mom and I and my twins Matilda and Milo), and her dad’s name was “Valentine.” I gasped! With eyes wide open, I read on that Susannah was the mother of 14. MY birthday is on February 14th, Valentine’s Day! In 1815, she gave birth to her seventh and eighth children, twins, a girl named Catherine and a boy, with no name, who died at birth. Chills ran down my spine and caught my breath as I thought about my own babies: my Matilda who is now 11 and her twin brother Milo who died three hours after they were born.��

Though it seemed that Liebhart was not just calling my name, but answering my call, I still just wasn’t sure if this was the right name for me. I kept saying my possible name over and over again. “Erin Liebhart.” “Erin Kristine Liebhart.” “Dr. Liebhart.” I just wasn’t sure if it had the right ring to it. So I kept on with my search.��

Another possibility that crossed my mind was my mom’s mother’s (my grandmother’s) maiden name “Camenzind.” Now the sound of Camenzind I liked. Camenzind has a zing to it. I also loved the sound of nostalgia in my mom’s voice when she told stories about Grandma and Grandpa Camenzind. “Grandma let us let us make chocolate milk and put in as many scoops of Nestle’s Quick as we wanted!” Mom shared.��

According to�� Camenzind is Swiss and German, as well a name for someone whose occupation is building fireplaces and chimneys or someone who received a fine for allowing their chimney to catch on fire. Huh. Setting my life on fire. Check. Being fined with the shame that still lingers in today’s age, especially for women who choose to divorce. Check. Now that was a metaphor that resonated with me. But still, I just wasn’t sure. Did I want my mask to be “Erin Kristine Burner Downer of Chimneys?”��

My quest continued. I also longed to share a connection with and honor my stepdad Dave who played such an important part in raising me. Given my mom’s recent diagnosis with and current treatment of stage IV pancreatic cancer, I also imagined how sharing the name Anderson with Dave and my mom would be a gift to us all. Having the same name would be an acknowledgement that no matter if I am married or single, whether my mom is here or long gone from this world, my family will forever be a space where I belong, both to myself and them, and where we belong to one another.

So which mask to choose? The morning after reaching a divorce settlement a few weeks ago, my lawyer emailed and said he needed to know what last name I would like to go with, because it needed to be included on the final paperwork being submitted to the court for approval. My heart dropped to my knees as I thought to myself, “What?! So soon?!” Though I had been mulling this decision for months, I honestly still did not know what to do. “Erin Kristine Anderson.” “Erin K. Camenzind.” “Dr. Erin Anderson-Liebhart?”��

I took a breath. I closed my eyes. I turned around and looked deep into my own eyes as if they were those of my dearest friend and whispered, “Erin, who are you?” The other me raised my eyes slowly and looked back at myself and said in perfect pitch, “I am an Anderson. And I am a Camenzind.”��

Like the joy of a child who finally figures out their Halloween costume and what mask is the perfect fit, I knew who I wanted to be! Of course I should choose Anderson, as I had longed to do for so many years. And while being a Camenzind resonated because of the burning down and the reclaiming of myself that I have been working toward, what I realized, even more so, is that I am a builder of chimneys and fireplaces: in my work at the university and in the world, I find my meaning and purpose in helping my students, colleagues, and those who are suffering the dumpster fires of life. My greatest gift is giving their smoke and ashes a place to escape, so they might begin to breathe more clearly.��

Though I had finally chosen a name, I needed to decide: to hyphenate or not hyphenate. I raced down the hallway and burst into my colleague Sam Anderson-Lehman’s office. “Sam, tell me all the challenges and benefits of having a hyphenated last name!” Sam took great care in responding to my query before I was off again to consider my decision: “Erin K. Anderson hyphen Camenzind,” “Dr. (Anderson silent as my middle name) Camenzind?” Again, I closed my eyes and saw my choice clearly: I would join Team Hyphen.��

On my way back to my office, I saw Sam again and shared my decision to which he responded, “This is great! Now you can be ‘Dr. A-C,’ because you are sooo cool!” I laughed and quite liked thinking about the juxtaposition of being both an air conditioner and a chimney/fireplace builder. Later, I texted my colleague Brian Gearity who, when he went on a trip to Germany this summer, I had asked to look around for signs that would indicate if I should be a Liebhart or a Camenzind. Without skipping a beat, upon hearing my chimney-honoring decision, he wrote back, “Holy Smokes!” The next day I saw my colleague Nathan Willers (with whom I am��sad to no longer share a similar last name!). I told him the whole story of my new name, including the part about seeing myself as a builder of chimneys of sorts. “Oh!” Nathan replied, “I was going to say ‘fireplace.’ You are like sitting by a cozy fireplace.” I almost wept.

As if choosing my own name has not been meaningful enough, hearing other people, like Sam, Brian, and Nathan, reflect back how my name fits me, has been one of the greatest gifts I have received in the midst of this painful time in my life. I am so proud to put on a new mask and say for the first time, “My name is Dr. Erin Kristine Anderson-Camenzind.”