It’s a burden, I think as I run around the school track. Having a name like Hypatia is a pain. Absolutely no one knows how to pronounce it for one thing. “It’s high-pay-sha,” I say at least three times a day. My mother, who is a math professor and a supporter of women’s rights, thinks it is a wonderful name.
She is fond of telling me stories about the original Hypatia. This original was born around 370 CE in Egypt and she was beautiful, clever, and tough. According to Mom, she was the best woman who ever lived.
“She was amazing at math at a time when women were hardly taught anything!” she gushes at me whenever I ask why. I have no problem with the fact that the first Hypatia was beautiful and strong. I might not swim every day, or row, or ride horses as my irritating namesake apparently did, but I do run. I run every day when I have the time. It clears my head. I come up with my best ideas when I run.
No, my real problem with my name is my dislike of math. The feeling is mutual—math hates me too. We are not a good fit. Imagine being named after a famous musician when you are tone deaf, or a famous poet when you only want to build things. This is what I feel like every day.
Which detail from the text shows why Hypatia was named after a famous person from history?
“Absolutely no one knows how to pronounce it.”
“No, my real problem with my name is my dislike of math.”
“According to Mom, she was the best woman who ever lived.”
“Having a name like Hypatia is a pain.”