Growing up in West Limerick, I never quite made peace with my name. Bríd — spelled with a fada, unmistakably Irish, and, to my young mind, deeply unremarkable — felt at odds with the ambitions and energy I carried within me. It wasn’t unique or exotic. It certainly wasn’t cool. In fact, it was everywhere.
There was, however, one thing I always liked about it: I was named after my grandmother, whom I adored. That connection mattered deeply, even if, for a long time, it wasn’t enough to make me love the name itself.
To put it in context, six out of the 36 students in my secondary school class were called Bríd, Breda or Bridget. There were so many of us that the name felt less like an identity and more like a label. At times, I wondered why someone as outgoing as I felt myself to be had been given such a plain, traditional name.
As I grew older, the confusion only multiplied. When asked my name, people regularly got it wrong. It became Mairead, Rita, Britt, or — in the case of international visitors — “What an unusual name.” On occasion, it even morphed into Brad or Brett. Eventually, I accepted Bríd, le fada. It might have seemed ordinary, but it was mine, and after all it was on my birth certificate.
Like most Irish children, I was raised on stories of saints and scholars. None loomed larger in the classroom than Saint Brigid and the tale of her cloak. I liked the story, but I never gave it much thought. After all, who was really celebrating Saint Brigid? Saint Patrick was the one with the parades, the global recognition, and the holiday. Patrick, Pat, and Paddy were names people wore with pride.
Was it simply the day off that made Saint Patrick so popular? Or was it that the name had grown familiar through the people we knew — friends, family members, colleagues — people we liked, loved, and shared memories with?
That question stayed with me: how do you make Bríd cool?
I didn’t dwell on it until recent years, when Saint Brigid experienced a remarkable revival. Driven in part by a wider conversation around gender balance, Ireland began to ask a simple but powerful question: why shouldn’t we celebrate a female patron saint as fully as a male one?
Suddenly, Saint Brigid was no longer a quiet historical figure. She emerged as a symbol of generosity, strength, and fearlessness — a woman who got things done, who didn’t take no for an answer, who made things happen. A force of nature.
And for the first time, I felt a genuine connection.
This was a woman I could identify with. This was someone I could aspire to be. And just like that, Bríd felt different. Stronger. More confident. Cooler.
The introduction of the St Brigid’s Day holiday has done more than add an extra day off in February. It has reshaped how we see a name — and, perhaps more importantly, how we value women’s contributions, both past and present. It has made Bríds, Brigids, and Bridgets everywhere stand a little taller.
As we approach 1 February, it feels like a moment worth acknowledging. Not just for those who share the name, but for all women striving to make a difference in their communities, workplaces, families and lives.
In many ways, this shift mirrors what I see in my own professional world. Organisations like Guaranteed Irish, which have existed quietly and consistently for decades, can sometimes be underestimated. Like Saint Brigid herself, they do their work without fuss — until the moment comes to step forward, refashion themselves, and say clearly: trust matters, community matters, and doing the right thing matters.
There is a lesson here. We don’t need to discard what has come before. Instead, we can take what is good, remodel it, and move forward with confidence and purpose.
So this St Brigid’s Day, I’ll be celebrating more than a saint or a holiday. I’ll be celebrating the journey of a name — one rooted in family, strengthened by history, and redefined for a new generation — and the resilience, strength, and quiet determination it represents.
Happy St Brigid’s Day everyone and if your name happens to be Bríd, your day has arrived.
Bríd O'Connell - CEO, Guaranteed Irish.
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