Enough is enough, I need a name

By Ishitaa Chopra BERRY SHI/THE EYEOPENER

Bold and beloved—not! That is what Eggy had told me when they gave me their reins to be the new mascot of Toronto Metropolitan University (TMU). They told me students and faculty would love me, adore me and even make secret handshakes with me. I thought I’d have inside jokes and be subjected to constant high fives. There was a promise of apparel made with my name that the campus bookstore clerks would sell for an exceedingly high price. I thought people would chant my name every time I walked past them but what do I get instead?

I get ignored and side-eyed. Ignored by students, faculty and ruthless campus pigeons. It is embarrassing that even other fellow birds refuse to acknowledge me. Talk about lack of camaraderie and allyship.

I wanted to be their God; rather, I was told I would be their God.

I remember the day like no other. Eggy and I were sitting on the steps of the Sheldon & Tracy Levy Student Learning Centre (SLC) and it was sunny but relatively cloudy. I remember it drizzling. I could feel the water seeping into my feathers and with every new drop falling from the sky, I dreamt of dancing with the students and the players when the TMU Bold won. The sheer feeling of celebration poisoned my veins.

Dammit, I was supposed to be the one dancing to “Hotline Bling” by Drake for every newly accepted student in their congratulations video and “Y’all ready for this” by Jock Jams at all the games. Hello! I’m supposed to be the school’s identity. I wanted to have the fame and fortune that other mascots receive, if not more.

Now, I scan the crowded hallways of Jorgenson Hall, waiting to be recognized. I long to be loved but I get nasty looks from students. I do not blame them. I do not have a name. I am an outsider and do not fit in. I am different but I do not want to be.

I could be Chandler Bing to your Joey Tribbiani, Taylor Swift to your Selena Gomez and Harold to your Kumar. Truthfully, I just wanna be yours.

Could you imagine how much I would thrive in a university like TMU? People are already chasing each other with little mics asking to be interviewed. Every Monday, students stand in long lines to pet a furry creature and most importantly, students constantly post their silly little dances on TikTok. I love talking and dancing and I am a furry creature too! I am perfect for the job.

Eggy enjoyed everything—the orientations and the farewells. The laughter and the tears. But me? I sit on those same cold hard SLC stairs in the snow, ice seeping into my already cold veins. I can’t help but develop resentment toward Eggy. Hell, I still see their stupid horns on people’s sweatshirts. What is so special about Eggy that I do not have? What do they offer that I can’t? They may have horns but I have wings. I symbolize vision, intuition and bravery, yet I sit here all lonely and blah.

All I ask is for a name. It doesn’t even have to be a good or catchy name, just something I can call my own. I want to go to Balzac’s or Starbucks and have the baristas write my name down on the paper cups. I want my name to be called out at coffee shops. Oh what I would give to wear the “Hello, my name is…” tag. I want to go to the Woodbine Beach to write out my name in the sand, even if it will inevitably be washed away. During the weekends, I want to walk into Warehouse, hand-in-hand with the students and hear the bouncer call out my name (no pun intended). How am I even supposed to introduce myself? How am I supposed to make friends if I do not have a name? How am I a mascot for a university without a name?