hardboiled

say my name

My name is Jinhua Zhang, and my name is never on those stupid souvenir keychains!

My name is Jinhua Zhang. I can just hear you say Gin-who-ah Zang. Many people with ethnic names, if I may speak on behalf of everyone, are quite used to hearing their names pronounced wrong. In fact, it often surprises me to hear my name pronounced even remotely similar to what it really is. I am used to responding to names that people give me such as Gin-Haw and Gin-who. Regardless of what they may sound, all the names I’ve been called seem to have a question mark attached at the end due to people’s uncertainty.

I really don’t mind when other people slaughter my name because I know that they don’t mean to. What bothers me more is that I often have to more or less mispronounce my own name to make it easier for others. On these occasions, I feel as if I’m betraying myself. After all, what can be more pathetic than pronouncing your own name wrong? So like many people with difficult-to-pronounce ethnic names, I have tried to both adopt an American name and shorten my Chinese name.

Throughout middle school and high school, I went by the name Carrie. I picked the name on a whim. Having an American name made my life a whole lot easier, for the most part. When I introduce myself to a stranger, I am more likely to be remembered and I made more friends this way. People used to avoid talking to me because they do not want to offend me with their version of my name. It also helped other people to correctly address me as Ms. or Mr. when they’re sending me an email and can’t distinguish my gender.

While several problems were resolved by adopting an American name, it also caused some unnecessary confusion. For example, I always hated the first days of school because I had to hear my name being slaughtered, then let the teacher know that I go by a different name, and watch them develop this “Where did that come from?” look on their faces.

More confusion arose on the days when we had substitutes because my name on the attendance sheet was still my legal name. The substitute would call out my legal name, and everyone in class would ask “Who’s that?” In answering their question, I would attract a lot of unwanted attention that led to a string of even more questions. “Your name is Gin-who-ah?” “How do you say your real name?” “Why’s your name Carrie?” It’s not as if I’m reluctant to explain myself, but the more people try to pronounce my name, the worse their pronunciations tend to get. Not to mention the fact that this all happens while class is still going on.

Eventually, I began to loathe my Chinese name. I get embarrassed every time someone mispronounces my name. The various attempts people made sounded more and more like mockery. So in that sense, occasional embarrassment due to keeping an American name was more tolerable than being called by odd names on an everyday basis.

When I came to college, I decided to go by Jin instead of Carrie. I figured that college professors and GSIs would never learn my name anyway, so going by a different name would confuse them when they report grades. The nice thing about going by Jin was that most people could pronounce it rather decently while I remained true to the name my parents have given me.

My ethnic name once made me an outsider, yet I experienced guilt for adopting an American name. I felt as if I was in such a hurry to assimilate that I am willing to throw my Chinese identity away. Going by Carrie made me feel less Chinese somehow. My choice to go by Jin is by far the best compromise because I’m sacrificing only part of my name in order to obtain a truer identity.

Of course, not all ethnic names are hard to say, and not all get replaced by American ones. Some are just harder than others. I’ve noticed that most Japanese names are kept the same while Chinese and Korean names are more likely to get Americanized. If you happen to have a rather “easier” ethnic name, that's great. But if your name is more or less like mine, difficult for the average American to pronounce, you have some options. My personal compromise is by no means the best and only one.

Depending on your personal preference, you may want to have fun with adopting an American name. After all, not everyone has the chance to name themselves right? But be sure to ask yourself whether adopting an Americanized name also means that you are adopting a more American identity. If not, having an American name does not necessarily mean that you are letting go of your ethnic pride just to fit in. On the other hand, you may prefer to keep the name that your parents have given you so that the next time you introduce yourself to someone, you can tell them something about your ethnic background along with the cool meaning behind your name.

One such person who has taken pride in their ethnic names is our president-elect Barack Obama. At the 2004 Democratic National Convention, Obama recounted, "They give me an African name, Barack, meaning blessing, beleiving that in a tolerant America, your name is no barrier to success." There's no doubt that Obama will make some additions to the list of “traditional American” names. (While he’s at it, how about some additions to the list of names Microsoft Word accepts as well?) Can you imagine how many children will be named after him in the years to come?

The important point to take away is that when you are frustrated with other people mispronouncing your name, don’t blame your parents for it. Be mindful of how your name came about and what your name stands for. Often, names are symbols for your parents’ blessings. At the same time, be considerate of other people’s language backgrounds. Do not expect everyone to be able to pronounce your name accurately. I, for example, can never roll the “r” in some ethnic names. Finding a balance between preserving ethnic identity and easing the process of assimilation can be difficult. Hopefully I have provided some options for you to choose from as well as comfort in letting you know that your frustration is shared by many.