My name has only ever been a source of amusement. Sadly, it’s the amusement of everyone else that is tickled and not my own. Whether the name ‘Liberty’ flowered from my parents’ more liberal phase (peace, love and rock and roll) or they simply decided to have a laugh is up for debate. At school, I would fall victim to the same old ‘Statue of Liberty’ jokes every time I introduced myself. By now, I’m very aware that there is, in fact, a statue in New York with the same name as me. Once, this worked in my favour; apparently, making a joke at my own expense and turning up to the school fete costume contest, toga-clad and holding a (cardboard) torch aloft proudly is enough to secure first place. One of my greatest achievements to date. These days, the statue jokes have started to die out. Perhaps it’s a sign of growing cynicism in the world – or maybe people are simply more comfortable in jeering and announcing that I’m “taking a fucking liberty” now I’m not a wide-eyed, innocent child. Perhaps, it would simply be better to go by my middle name…


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