A recent conversation left me feeling like my heart was ripped out of my body, tossed under a bus and shattered in a million pieces.

As if someone knew I needed light in my moment of darkness, a few minutes later, I received an e-mail from a new travel friend, Randle Roper, who was visiting “Masada” the mountain. He wrote, “I thought of you all day. Our guide said that your name was incredibly special. I asked if it was common name in Israel, she said, ‘Oh no. No. Not at all. That name is only used to express absolute specialness.’ So congratulations.”

Most of us don’t choose our names, and I didn’t pick mine. When I was born and people heard my name, one man said to my father, “What a big name, for such a small baby.” My father responded, “She’ll grow into it.”

Perhaps we all grow into our names, or maybe they shape who we become. Being named after such a historical, emotional, meaningful place has placed a big responsibility on my shoulders.

The fortress of Masada is the site of one of the most interesting stories of ancient Judea. King Herod’s palace was on top of Masada, and in escaping the Romans, many Jewish Zealots fled to live on the top of the mountain. A three-year battle ensued between them, however. Instead of being taken into slavery by the Romans, these Jews instead decided to kill themselves.

Since suicide is against religious law, the 1,000 citizens decided instead to kill each other methodically until only 10 men remained. Those 10 men put their names into a lottery to decide who would be the last man standing. Instead of 1,000 suicides, there were 999 forgivable deaths by others, with only one man having to fall on his own sword, thus nobly ending their dilemma. Their choice was to have freedom in death or to be slaves in life.

The almost 2,000-year-old story of Masada left such an impact that it’s still studied by American military leaders today. The most memorable conversation I have had about my name was when I had the good fortune to meet retired U.S. Gen. Colin Powell. The moment he heard my name, he told me how he had studied the battle and learned all about the strategies and how it was a fascinating story of great military as well as political importance.

My name has always made me feel different, because just simply meeting someone new often leads to explaining the story and people asking me if I am Jewish and what do I think of Israel’s political actions.

So do I always agree with Israel’s actions? No. Do I always think I make the best choices and do the smartest things? No.

But do I know how important it is for the Jewish people to have a homeland? Yes, as I am a product of a family that over generations has constantly had to move to avoid persecution.

Technically, I’m half-German. My grandfather fought for Germany in World War I, 17 battles in the trenches, and he was awarded the Iron Cross for bravery. We have documentation that says the family dates back more than 500 years to Germany. That said, at the onset of World War II, the entire family left for Rhodesia, except for three family members who elected to stay and ended up on the ill-fated ship the St Louis and ultimately were murdered in Auschwitz.

So do I believe in the importance of Israel? Of course, since without the country, I most certainly would not exist, let alone be writing this article, especially since my maternal grandfather, himself born in Israel, fought in Israel’s War of Independence and later went on to become one of the founders of Israel’s main bus companies, Egged.

So, because my parents gave me the name Masada, entire religious, political, international conversations are started. Of course, since it is such a unique name, growing up, it prevented me from doing too many stupid things, because if I had, everyone would know which “Masada” was responsible, as there aren’t too many people in Scottsdale, Ariz., running around with the same name!

However, while travelling around the world, my name has also put me in unique situations. Once while in Israel with my Australian friends, we stayed in a backpackers hostel in the Muslim quarter of the Old City of Jerusalem.

The man checking me in, closely looked me over, then asked if I was named after an Arab village, which is similar to my name. I just nodded. My name is an immediate indicator of my background and can present unique challenges for my safety when travelling in certain countries.

As I’m a curious person, always wanting to explore, it was an interesting experience, as I got to peer into the Muslim world. I distinctly remember watching a woman rush her children to the mosque, as they were running late. It got me to thinking that, ultimately, most people just want to live their lives in peace and do normal things such as travel, have a family and enjoy life.

I admit, I was scared staying in the hostel, knowing that simply by being Jewish, alas, my personal safety was at risk. One only need to look at the fate of the great journalist Daniel Pearl, who was murdered in Pakistan because he was Jewish and his parents were Israeli.

My intuition was correct: the hostel was a dangerous place to stay. I later found out that a Belgian woman who had stayed there just two days earlier had disappeared, and the police were looking for her.

When I met my friend Sean McElroy from Northern Ireland at the Greenhouse backpackers hostel in Melbourne, Australia, he of course asked me all the typical questions, which led to all the typical answers. But he also exclaimed, “Wow, you’re the first Jewish person I have ever met.” (His excitement was doubled considering he was reading the book The Da Vinci Code. This of course cracked me up.)

So, what’s in a name? With mine comes a tremendous responsibility, because for reasons unknown to me, there are still so many people who are anti-Semitic, so I always want to leave a positive impression, especially knowing I might be the first and only Jewish person they ever meet.

Six letters – my name – have enormously affected my life, perhaps even attracting me to the written word. I understand the power of the pen. It can be used for hatred or for love, for war or peace. I’ve chosen to the best of my abilities to try to spread positive messages, hoping my words inspire, make people laugh, and perhaps even create magical happenings in the world. It’s a romantic notion perhaps, but as Herzl, the father of modern political Zionism once said, “If you will it, it is no dream.”

And his dream of a modern State of Israel came true, against all odds, so why not my dreams, or yours?

So with all the sometimes overwhelming, unasked for responsibilities and complications of a unique name also comes “absolute specialness,” and what can I tell you? I’ll take it!

Masada Siegel can be reached at [email protected].