My name is Monika. Actually, that is not true. When I was about twelve years old I dropped the “C” in my first name and adopted what I deemed to be the hipper consonant; “K.” For reasons I cannot explain, this spelling stuck. This has made cashing a check somewhat complicated and there is the occasional social media snafu, but for the most part, my adaptation has gone unnoticed. Even more covertly, I have a native name. As a Native American, my father gets the honor of