It rhymes with Gandhi, and is pronounced like it looks, or, phonetically, like dawn-dee. 🪷
There was a comic strip named Dondi that was syndicated from about 1955 to about 1985. I think my mom saved some of the comics for me from the papers when I was little. It was about a little boy with big eyes from Italy, a WWII orphan who emigrated to the United States and lived on dude ranches in the Wild West, and his adventures. 🤠
But I wasn’t named after him. I was named after my labor nurse, the woman who helped deliver me, and Dondi was her nickname. Her given name is Dorothy, and her older sister -who went to school with my mother, it turned out- wasn’t able to say Dorothy, so she called her little sister Dondi. And it stuck. 👨👩👧👦
My parents could not choose a name for a little girl when I was born. They had a boy’s name – I was supposed to be Anthony. Tony. But they didn’t like Toni for a girl and they could not settle on a name. Dondi had gone off shift for a few days after my birth -I was a REALLY tough birth, with my umbilical cord strangling me and a cone head and feet that were turned in and then I got meningitis when I was 3 weeks old. My poor mom. 🤱
Anyway, when Dondi A. (her last name actually does begin with A…and mine with B, so…so perfect) came back on shift a few days later, she went to check on my mom. Still no name for me, and my mother barely remembered her helping when I was born, but she introduced herself brightly, “Hi, I’m Dondi A!” And my parents turned to each other in awe, and I was thusly named Dondi. Dondi Leigh B.👩⚕️
Childhood was a little rough. Crocodile Dundee came out when I was in kindergarten or so, and the playground taunt was “Crocodile Dondi!!” Kids can be bastards sometimes. I got so sick of it that from ages 10-14 I gave myself a nickname, Sunni, and required everyone to call me that. Including my parents, who were pretty broken-hearted about it.💔
At fourteen we moved WAY West and I met a boy who LOVED my name, and I dropped Sunni like hotcakes. The relationship eventually fizzled, but I’m still grateful to him for loving my name and helping me come back around.😍
Dondi A came to a lot of my birthday parties when I was really little, but my family fell out of touch with her and I had no idea where she ended up. My mom said Northern California, but as it turned out, she was actually in Southern California, in a town close to the town I was going to be traveling to when I visited a friend in a few months. By the power of social media, we were reunited, and by the power of my buddy being willing to drive an hour out of his city, we met with Dondi A and her husband for brunch a couple months after my 40th birthday.✈️
Dondi A is wise and beautiful and kind. She reminds me a lot of my mom and she is a really lovely person. After being a labor nurse for awhile she went to midwifery school, where she became a midwife (surprise! I know…). She also met her husband, who is a midwife, there. He’s a really cool guy too. We had a few moments at the table where either my male friend or Dondi’s husband said our name, and we both turned to see what they were saying. Something that doesn’t happen very often to us Dondis (the plural form of Dondi is Dondis. Dondi’s means “Dondi is/has”.) I had a great time with my dear friend, but meeting Dondi A for the first time that I remembered made my whole year. Possibly several years. She is a brilliant, vibrant, intelligent woman with a giant heart. I’m so happy and grateful that she gave me my name; I look up to and respect her immensely. 🥰💜💜💓💕💞💝💖
There are only 1140 Dondis in the United States, and most of them are male (65%). So I am happy to share my name with about 399 other women, most especially Dondi A. When the notable (male) graffiti artist Dondi White died in October of 1998, his obituary was the first time I saw my name in print, and I quickly became very interested in getting my own name in print (preferably not in an obituary).📰
Having my name means introducing myself to people multiple times, especially if the atmosphere is loud, coaching people on pronunciation, and simply giving up when some people keep mispronouncing it. My wonderful project manager, who I hold in high esteem, mispronounces my name every time she says it. She says it like it’s DOAN-dee. And it’s not, but I just sit back now. It’s not really that big a deal. 😹🤣
But being a Dondi is. Being a Dondi is really cool. People love my name, and once a couple in a nearby town where I used to live named their baby after me, which was such an honor. They just loved my name. I knew them because they shopped in the grocery store where I was a cashier regularly, and they raved over my name. Finding out that they were going to name their daughter Dondi made me incredibly happy. What an honor. 🎇🤩🎉
I spend a goodly amount of my time in gratitude, and I am so grateful to Dondi for sharing her name with me, and for the couple who loved it so much they named their daughter after me. I hope the name doesn’t disappear. Even though it’s sometimes a pain to explain or help others understand how to say it, it’s an incredibly special and unique name and, while I spent some of my childhood being teased and even made myself into Sunni for awhile, I love it now and wouldn’t give it up for anything. 🌞🌈🎂😁😊🥳✨🪄🧝♀️
Distractible Content 