What’s in a Name?
In this world, names hold power. They whisper stories, honor ancestry, and sometimes, become a way to reclaim what history tried to erase. When I chose the name Paige Savage, I wasn’t just crafting a brand, I was anchoring myself in lineage, memory, and a vision of who I came here to be.
Paige: A Tribute to My Father, and a Page in My Story
If my father had been born a girl, his name would’ve been Paige. He passed before I was born, yet his presence—quiet, protective, and powerful—has been one of the most enduring energies in my life. Choosing Paige felt like claiming that connection out loud. Not in a way that demanded proof, but in a way that honored the bond I feel. Some might call it woo-woo. I call it gratitude.
To me, Paige is more than a name. It’s softness. Femininity. A literary wink. It reminds people of a page in a story or a muse in a novel. In French, “un page” is a helper—a caretaker, a quiet supporter of something bigger. And that, too, is how I often see myself in this work: a guide, a mirror, a muse. Someone who holds space, not just for desire, but for transformation.
Savage: Reclaiming the Word, Honoring the Women
The word Savage has been used as a weapon. It’s right there in the U.S. Constitution—“merciless Indian savages.” That phrase echoes with the violence and dehumanization Indigenous people, especially Indigenous women, have carried for centuries.
My mother is Indigenous. She is strength embodied. And though her life was rerouted by circumstances she didn’t choose, her spirit never broke. Savage is my way of honoring her, and all the Indigenous women whose stories often go unseen. It’s also my way of reclaiming a word that was once used to vilify us—and instead, using it as a symbol of boldness, sensuality, and unrelenting truth.
A Name That Holds All of Me
Together, Paige Savage represents duality: the muse and the warrior, the soft and the sharp, the romantic and the raw. People have always underestimated me—by race, by appearance, by the way I hold power without apology. So I chose a name that couldn’t be boxed in.
It’s a name that invites and disrupts. That honors both parents—my father, whose spirit walks with me, and my mother, whose resilience burns in me. And more than anything, it’s a name that allows me to live boldly, authentically, and unapologetically—doing things my parents never got to do, whether because life was cut short or circumstances made it impossible.
This world I’ve created—this career, this realm, this art—isn’t just mine. It’s a continuation of their stories. A new chapter. And every time someone says my name, I’m reminded of the path I walk and the power I carry.
P.S. Names are magic. And this one? It’s sacred.
