Hurricane Irma in the Atlantic Ocean was one of the most powerful hurricanes ever recorded that destructed the Caribbean and parts of Florida. It left the small island of Barbuda only 90 percent habitable. But yet, people are joking about it.

There is not one single person living on the tiny island of Barbuda today. Everyone has evacuated or is dead. The small island is 62 square miles and the hurricane was 378 miles wide.

Let me say this once. It’s not funny.

So, why do hurricanes have to be named after people?

Yes, I’ve heard it before. From random strangers saying to me, “Huh, Irma, right?” or sitting in driver’s ed for a full two minutes, red-faced, because of all the comments everyone was making about my name, including my driver instructor.

I can predict what you’re going to say before you even open your mouth.

“I liked you better as a hurricane,” a boy once told me in the middle of French class. He didn’t mean for me to be offended, but I was.

Even random people on Twitter messaged me about the hurricane. One reads, “Your name”. I asked what about it? even though I knew what the person was about to say.  “The hurricane lol,” the stranger responded.

The hurricane naming system works oddly. It goes throughout the alphabet usually for six years until a hurricane becomes incredibly significant, then it is retired from appearing again. Before Hurricane Irma, it was Hurricane Irene.

Irene was used multiple times and was finally retired after the 2011 tropical cyclone, which was incredibly deadly and destructive. Hurricane Irma was used only one time and is likely to be retired as a hurricane name, especially after all the damage the hurricane has caused.

So this would be the first and last time Irma has ever been a hurricane. I’m relieved at that fact, but I can’t help but feel pity for all the people in world who have to deal with hurricane jokes every six or so years. Again, why do hurricanes have to be named after people?

Everyone from substitute teachers to my mom has joked about my name. “Now everyone knows how to say your name,” my mom laughed when I told her about Hurricane Irma. “Your aunt in Florida said to tell you, ‘Irma don’t hit Florida!'”

Even the Von Maur cashier commented on my name. “Wow, ‘Irma’, that’s all over the map right now, isn’t it?” I remember forcing a smile and awkwardly chuckling.

Despite the constant teasing of how much an awful reminder my name is, I am proud of my name and where it stems from. My name represents who I am as a person and I’m glad.