My name, Mohammed, is the same as the prophet of my religion, Islam. He was the last of our prophets and was kind and nice, not greedy or vengeful. My name may not mean hope, strength, or courage, nor beauty. However, it represents many things to me.

When I was born, my uncles and aunts, my father and mother, and all my relatives wanted to name me. Finally, my father chose Almosharaf Hussain, or Al Hussain. My first name became Mohammed. In addition, I got a nickname, Suvo.

My name is the candle, and I am the moth. It is my skin. It may not mean beautiful, but to me it is like the ocean, shimmering as the sunlight plays on its waves. Also, my name represents bravery and intelligence, like Tom Thumb, the little boy in that fairy tale who tricked the largest thieves and the slickest animals.

Like Hercules, my name has infinite strength. It speaks to me, tells me who I am. It dances, plays, walks with me. It is my brother because it will be with me forever, but it is also my enemy. My last name, Hussain, sometimes pricks me. It is not always the beautiful sanctuary of my life. I am sometimes criticized for it; it relates to someone else and causes people to tease me or say bad things.

However, I am still proud of my name because it ­represents an important thing: me.