My name is Keegan. And I am girl.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the only female Keegan I know. It’s a gift and a curse, having an androgynous name – and while I’m generally proud of my moniker, I’d be lying if I said it’s always been easy to accept. Let’s take a trip down memory lane:

I’m five years old and mom and dad sign me up for soccer at the local Boys and Girls club. I arrive on the first day, scrunchy in hair, pink cleats laced, to discover I’m the only girl on an all boys’ team. “Oops. We thought Keegan was a boy.” Repeat for basketball and t-ball signs-ups through age 10.

Eight years later, I’m 13, and I’ve finally escaped the stress that is co-ed sports. I’m absolutely ecstatic when my mom tells me I’ve received a piece of mail that’s actually addressed to me. That is, until I see it’s a letter from the government to Mr. Keegan Prosser. Am I annoyed? Yes. Surprised? Nope. This is standard in the Prosser house, as my older brother, Kelly, has been receiving beauty pageant invitations for years.

Fast forward to senior year of high school. I’m 17 and college is on the brain. I’ve spent countless hours writing essays, explaining who I am – and after all the paperwork and screenings – I’ve been accepted to all the universities I apply. The kicker? Half the acceptance letters are addressed to Mr. Prosser. They like me, they want me. They think I’m a dude.

You might think after 22 years of explaining that, contrary to popular belief, Keegan is a girl’s name too, I’d be used to the genuine surprise on the other end of the phone when it’s met with a female voice. Especially in relation to my career. I’m a reporter; I cold-call strangers every day. Nope.

So imagine my reaction on my first day at the Bellevue Reporter, when I’m forwarded an e-mail from the IT department giving the new employee “his” passwords.

Darn it.

I understand it’s a common mistake. And all things considered, I wouldn’t say that having a gender-neutral name has made my life any more difficult than it would have been otherwise. As far as my brother’s problems – he’ll be the first to admit he’s got a “pretty” name. And in the celebrity-driven culture that exists today, it looks like the my parents were ahead of the trend. I mean, Jessica Simpson just gave her baby girl TWO boy names (Maxwell Drew).

As you can tell from the accompanying photo, I have a flaming mane of red hair. How appropriate then, that Keegan also means “little fiery one” in Gaelic.

Touché, parents, Touché.