KDC > KCD > KCM(D)
i’m a non-native monogrammer.
I’m a non-native monogrammer.
Unlike most of y’all, I didn’t grow up in the south.
My formative decade in Denver, suburban D.C., and Dublin, Ohio, wasn’t all seersucker, sweet tea, and last name pride. More like Pepsi, JCNOS, and “you guys.” (“Yinz” when visiting my dad’s family in West Virginia. Yeah, I know that’s another weird geography to add to the story. Here’s the last one: My mom’s from Los Angeles via Des Moines, Iowa. A true mutt, I am.)
Another fun fact: It’s not actually “youS guys,” it’s YOU guys. And also, we don’t say that anymore. Signed, AN EXPERT.
culture shock
So when Frigidaire surged southward to Augusta, my whole identity was culture shocked.
(Even down to the concept of BBQ! To my uncultured, 39.2905° N, 76.6104° W mind, BBQ meant grilled chicken, charred corn, and those crunchy, undercooked red potatoes. What was this pulled pork mess? And then you have to choose mustard or vinegar? And the bun is stale? And you get Thanksgiving sides? Pass.)
vera bradley inspires an identity
The first time I saw a monogram was on a friend’s Vera Bradley garment bag. I thought it was the ugliest suitcase I’d ever seen.
(My inside voices are judgy, we’re working on that.)
And it was confusing: Kelcie Danae Chambers—KDC—was my name.
So my monogram is “KCD”? The last name in the middle? I asked her.
Yeah, she waved off. It’s just how it is.
Oh.
i was doing it wrong.
It was one more thing to add to the “fake it until you make it” list that would later become my whole identity. I made the mental note, but ignored the instinct—
So, KCD. I like “KCD”much better. Why does the “C” have to be in the middle?, I thought to myself.
yeah.
Why does it have to be in the middle?
Last names have always been fraught with controversy.
They started as a way to identify: jobs, roles, characteristics, locations—the original self-limiting beliefs.
Today, they’re an identity prison for many, especially if you’re a woman growing up in the South.
here, your monogram is your worth.
Old money, new money, or no money?
Are you saved? (Catholics don’t count.)
Not from around here, are ya?
I can’t pronounce it (and I won’t.)
I leaned in—hard—into the monogramming trend in college.
the monogram was a way to find an identity in a world that seemed so foreign to me.
KCD in giant pink letters on the back of my SUV.
Because if it was in letters, it meant something.
That I wasn’t a nobody from rural Maryland or a dreary Ohio loner.
That I had a family with worth, value, and prestige.
That I had roots.
That I was worth something.
of course, now i know it’s all a lie.
I still love monograms, but today, it’s more of a quirky Martha Stewart obsession than a trad wife fantasy.
And if I could do it all over again, I’d simply ditch my last name in favor of my first—chosen—only—surname:
