My body name is Judy. But I am not a name. I am a cynic, a reader, a writer. I am a critical thinker and a person of passion. I don’t easily trust, but I am loaded with empathy for those in pain, needing help, needing support and someone they can trust. I am a seeker of truth, of justice, of fairness and equality. I am the one who can be invisible or at the forefront with the loud voice. I am the clown who diffuses the tense situation with humor and laughter. I am the cryer over hurt animals, children, elders, the wounded and disabled. I am not my name. Few will recognize my name. But those who know me, who read what I write, know my soul, my willingness to listen and learn, my propensity to defend and make things right for others will see me. No, I have no nicknames, though I have been called many names in anger or hate. But that’s all right. If one person recognizes this body named Judy and gravitates towards it, smiling, feeling acceptance without judgement, why do I need a nickname? Or even a name? Let me make a difference. Let me spread Peace and Love.