Aleigha (uh-LAY-uh /əˈleɪə/) steps onto the stage like a flamenco dancer flicking a bright red fan—graceful, spirited, and impossible to ignore. Though her spelling feels modern, she traces her lineage to the Arabic “Aaliyah,” meaning “exalted,” and nods to the Hebrew “Leah,” often read as “meadow” or “delicate.” In other words, Aleigha is both high-soaring and softly rooted, a bird that lands in a field of wildflowers. Over the past three decades she has drifted up and down America’s popularity charts like a kite catching shifting coastal winds—never common enough to lose her luster, yet familiar enough to earn warm smiles at roll call. Parents are drawn to her lyrical rise-and-fall rhythm, the way it rolls off the tongue like a gentle bolero, and to the subtle promise that a little Aleigha might grow up to paint sunsets, argue cases, or lead salsa bands with the same easy confidence. Lighthearted yet dignified, she offers a nameplate that reads “Aim high, dance often.”