My parents spelled my first name as phonetically as possible, but pronouncing it still seems to cause most people trouble. The most common mispronunciations are when people add extra syllables and letters to my name, so Sheeka becomes Sheneka, Shereka, or Shakeeya.
I do my best to let it roll off my back, repeatedly correcting it to the way it’s intended to sound: SHEE-kuh. I love my name, even if it’s always mispronounced. That’s because I know the origin of my name and that it would take me on an adventure to another part of the world.
When my mom was pregnant with me, my parents watched a foreign film in their small indie movie theater in Tucson, Arizona. The movie, originally from Brazil, was a historical comedic drama called Xica da Silva. My parents loved Zezé Motta’s portrayal of the lead character so much that they decided they would give me her character’s name.
My parents Americanized the spelling to help people pronounce it correctly — if only they had known back then that it would be futile!
Researching my name brought wild revelations
As an adult, I grew more curious about the origin of my name. As I researched the film, I learned that a popular telenovela by the same name had been made in the 1990s and syndicated across Latin America. Then, I learned that Xica da Silva’s filmography was inspired by a real woman named Chica (same pronunciation) who lived in 18th-century Brazil.
That sent me deeper down the rabbit hole. According to her biography, the original Chica da Silva was born enslaved in the early 18th century in Milho Verde, Brazil. As a young adult, a Portuguese diamond contractor bought her, then manumitted her within a matter of weeks or months, which was highly unusual for Brazilian colonial times. Chica da Silva went on to have several children with the diamond contractor. Chica accessed power, wealth, and high society for the rest of her life through her connection to her manumitter.
When I discovered that her 18th-century home in Diamantina, Brazil, had been turned into a museum interpreting her life, I knew I needed to see it in person.
Visiting my namesake’s home
It was a journey just to get to Chica da Silva’s hometown of Diamantina, Brazil. I flew from Atlanta to Belo Horizonte, Brazil, and then drove a rental car for four hours into the Chapada Diamantina mountains. The road trip took my son and me through some magnificent highland landscapes, but by the time we made it to Diamantina, I was exhausted from driving a manual car in a foreign country for hours.
Chica’s museum was due to close for the weekend in an hour, and since we would only be in Diamantina for a couple of days, this was my only opportunity to go before it closed. We scurried along the stone-paved street to the museum entrance. I greeted the staff and told everyone who would listen that I was named after the woman who lived in the house nearly 300 years ago.
I met a man named John Lennon
After walking through the first and second floors of the museum, taking my time to study exhibits on the town’s history of diamond mining and Chica da Silva’s folkloric impact on Brazil, I walked outside to the back courtyard. I was overjoyed that I’d made it to my namesake’s home. That’s when I met a staff gardener who offered to show me something off the typical tour: Chica da Silva’s garden.
My son and I followed him along a stone path, stopping to try an orange, mint leaf, and sugar cane cut fresh from the stalk. As an avid plant lover, this spontaneous garden tour felt like a dream, as though my namesake was personally rewarding me for making the journey in homage to her.
The gardener told me his name is John Lennon — his mom was a huge fan of The Beatles. My jaw dropped in shock. Here I was, four thousand miles away from home, to learn about the Brazilian woman whom I’m named after, and the person showing me around is also named after an international luminary, in fact, one of the most famous British musicians in history.
As I stood in Chica’s garden, in disbelief of my good fortune, I couldn’t help wish the same fate for my new friend. Hopefully, one day, the Brazilian John Lennon will be able to visit Liverpool and walk in the footsteps of the artist who inspired his name. I know from experience it’ll be a life-changing journey.
