Immigrating to and growing up in a country with more than 17 local language groups and all the immigrants from a multitude of nations ...and having a name that no-one knew at all, well , it was going to be mispronounced all the time. Did it or does it make me feel disrespected...no. I correct people, some ask, some ask the origin...and all of that is absolutely fine. I do the same with the names that sound foreign to me. With the tongue-twister names all around me ...as hard as I try, I get them wrong more often that not. I make a effort to ask and make an effort to get them right. My grandchild is Kupakwashe, at school she is known by her second name Adore and is Head Girl this year, I prefer to call her Kupakwashe...she is equally happy with both...we live in a diverse world and just need to give each other a little leeway. Respect is shown in many more ways than pronunciation.
I believe that only 30% of people pronounce or write my name correctly. Even my driver’s license and my work contract contained mistakes.
Many people simply call me "Emmanuelle". Assimilation often starts with names—and this is a form of micro-violence. It slowly erodes your identity, day after day.
That’s why I prefer to introduce myself as Manu. At least then, I get to decide how my name is shortened.
"Los que vivimos entre idiomas necesitamos anclas, no máscaras."
I love this.
When I moved to Guatemala, I readily adopted Julieta as my name and still answer to it. My dear late in-laws only ever called me Julieta. But with English speakers, I was quite assertive about my name. I didn't let people shorten it for their convenience. But some friends shortened it affectionately, which felt very different. My former physics classmate, from Argentina, still calls me "Yul." Also, she laughed at my Spanish because she said I sounded like El Chavo del Ochoa 😆. The dear neighbor who helped me so much when my son was a baby calls me "Julia" (the Spanish pronunciation). Living without roots, I was grateful to be claimed so sweetly.
I guess the anchor is the relationship. No mask was necessary there because the love was very real.
Also, when it comes to other people's names, I try very hard to reproduce exactly how they say it. I still remember how, almost 10 years ago, my friend Mlingane's face lit up when I got his name right on the first try. That was a small sacred moment that I am so grateful to have shared with him.
You carry so much wisdom and lived experience Juliet. I love what you mention about the people who earn our permission to call us differently, and the beauty of making an effort from your end always pays off, your friend Mlingane was proof of that :)
I let people call me all sorts of things until a psychologist insisted I become more assertive about the pronunciation. I still find it difficult to do.
My name (Asia) is pronounced one way in English, another way in Spanish, and yet another way in Italian. Whenever I introduce myself in a foreign language, I try and say my name as they would say it. It almost feels like I’m taking on a new identity…and I like it.
I also gave my daughter a name that would be easy to pronounce in multiple languages, trying to think ahead and hopefully save her some hassle. The things we consider!!😂
I made a similar decision with my son, Theo. His name can be pronounced in Spanish, English and Dutch; my hope was that, no matter where he chooses to live, he can feel understood, starting with his name :)
Sííííí, nuestro nombre contiene todo. I have experienced exactly what you described with my given name (as did my own brother Julio), until like you, I pivoted and started introducing myself with the Spanish pronunciation of my name (Luna is just my apodo). Thank you for sharing your experience, Julio!
I think I have never thought about it…even though as a Latin American woman I have a middle name, which I never bring because no one can pronounce it. So I stayed with the first name, Monica. I think, because it has always been easier for non spanish speakers to pronounce it. But, I sometimes forget I am “Mónica”… with the accent.
Something to reflect next time I meet someone and I introduce myself as “Mónica”… also an act of respect for my roots!
So well written!! I see both sides— I introduce myself as “Rachele” sometimes in Italy… I use it at restaurants, and when I don’t feel like explaining. When people tell me it’s a beautiful name, I say ‘grazie, non e il mio nome ma grazie comunque’ (thanks, it’s not my name, but thanks). However, when someone takes the time (especially when English isn’t their native language) to say my name for real “right”? It’s a whole new level of warmth for that person every single time.
I have been there, and tweaked my name to 'Julian' back in those Starbucks days... But like you say, it feels so nice when someone gets it right, or simply puts in the effort, and most of the times its up to us to give them that chance :)
This is an important statement. I once worked on Ruth Klüger's self-commented poems. In one of these commentaries, she noted how often Americans would mispronounce European names, and most embarrassingly the names of Nazi concentration camps (she was born to a Jewish Austrian family and emigrated to the US with her mother after they survived the Shoah). It was a while ago so I don't remember which exact poem she was commenting on, but she basically said that "anyone can learn how to pronounce a name correctly". I think her point was the same as yours: respecting an individual's and a people's integrities by acknowledging this basic yet fundamental proof of their identities.
My first name is pan-European, so it's pronounced differently depending on where I am and who I'm talking to. And in France where I live, people only rarely tend to ask how to pronounce my Dutch name correctly. The only Francophones that get it right are the Belgians, of course. I don't mind any of those situations anymore, although I do appreciate it when people at least try to show some interest, even politely. The fact that I'm a French citizen in my own country has probably to do with the relaxed way I envision it, of course, although I did emphasize my Dutch heritage in my twenties (probably because I've been quite deeply cut off from it and tried to regain it as much as possible).
Some cultures are also more mindful of foreign languages, like Germany where I lived for two years. Both acquaintances and friends would always pronounce my name the French way, with varying thickness of accent. German also contains a plethora of French terms, so that helps, but they do it with Dutch, English, Spanish and Italian as well (again, with varying degrees of success, but at least they try). Being a learner of Japanese, I like how funny my name sounds in that language. And as a translator more broadly, I'm a bit torn between letting people flavor my name in their local tongue and correcting them. But in the opposite direction, I almost always learn how to pronounce a foreign name as it is said in the original language. A double standard, one could say!
I find really interesting the point you raise on how different cultures might have a higher level of respect or "effort as respect" in trying to pronounce names properly. Definitely a perspective worth exploring.
Thanks for your thoughtful comment, I loved the quote from Ruth Klüger.
Congratulations, Julio! I agree with your view. Honestly, I had never thought of this before. Probably because I have always lived in Spain, and also because my name, Victor, is easy for English-speaking speakers to pronounce. This post has been meaningful to me because it has been the first one I have read after not signing in to Substack for some weeks. I didn't follow Julio; I saw the post in a restack by my friend Pili Cuadrado. Yesterday evening, I watched an old-fashioned kids' show on a Spanish streaming platform, and I heard something very similar. I watched it totally randomly, and one of the characters asked the same question about the name of a rose that is at the beginning of this post. I love this kind of synchronicity!
Thank you so much Víctor. In all honesty, I wonder if I'd written this piece had I had a different name. I'm glad we got to meet each other through Pili, a big part of this small community we are building around shared topics.
PS I love the coincidence with those cartoons, everything happens for a reason :)
So funny, I was thinking only days ago how people not pronouncing your name correctly over a very long period of time has an effect on your perception of self!
Immigrating to and growing up in a country with more than 17 local language groups and all the immigrants from a multitude of nations ...and having a name that no-one knew at all, well , it was going to be mispronounced all the time. Did it or does it make me feel disrespected...no. I correct people, some ask, some ask the origin...and all of that is absolutely fine. I do the same with the names that sound foreign to me. With the tongue-twister names all around me ...as hard as I try, I get them wrong more often that not. I make a effort to ask and make an effort to get them right. My grandchild is Kupakwashe, at school she is known by her second name Adore and is Head Girl this year, I prefer to call her Kupakwashe...she is equally happy with both...we live in a diverse world and just need to give each other a little leeway. Respect is shown in many more ways than pronunciation.
Thanks for sharing Heike. I agree with you, the act of trying (which you describe so well) is the real mesure of respect.
I believe that only 30% of people pronounce or write my name correctly. Even my driver’s license and my work contract contained mistakes.
Many people simply call me "Emmanuelle". Assimilation often starts with names—and this is a form of micro-violence. It slowly erodes your identity, day after day.
That’s why I prefer to introduce myself as Manu. At least then, I get to decide how my name is shortened.
I love the solution you found. It’s gaining back the control of your story in the smartest way :)
"Los que vivimos entre idiomas necesitamos anclas, no máscaras."
I love this.
When I moved to Guatemala, I readily adopted Julieta as my name and still answer to it. My dear late in-laws only ever called me Julieta. But with English speakers, I was quite assertive about my name. I didn't let people shorten it for their convenience. But some friends shortened it affectionately, which felt very different. My former physics classmate, from Argentina, still calls me "Yul." Also, she laughed at my Spanish because she said I sounded like El Chavo del Ochoa 😆. The dear neighbor who helped me so much when my son was a baby calls me "Julia" (the Spanish pronunciation). Living without roots, I was grateful to be claimed so sweetly.
I guess the anchor is the relationship. No mask was necessary there because the love was very real.
Also, when it comes to other people's names, I try very hard to reproduce exactly how they say it. I still remember how, almost 10 years ago, my friend Mlingane's face lit up when I got his name right on the first try. That was a small sacred moment that I am so grateful to have shared with him.
You carry so much wisdom and lived experience Juliet. I love what you mention about the people who earn our permission to call us differently, and the beauty of making an effort from your end always pays off, your friend Mlingane was proof of that :)
I let people call me all sorts of things until a psychologist insisted I become more assertive about the pronunciation. I still find it difficult to do.
I have found it really hard for many years. I think if we believe we’re doing it because we care, it starts becoming a little bit easier :)
I love the Julio-Juliet connection you made in the beginning. Juliet clearly never had to do a zoom call 🥀
Hahaha this made me laugh!
I wrote about the same topic but in a different vein recently! https://open.substack.com/pub/rajmukhopadhyay/p/attempt-to-say-my-name?r=2h1676&utm_medium=ios
What a beautiful story Raj (and as I write it I am to say it right, with the respect it deserves :))
My name (Asia) is pronounced one way in English, another way in Spanish, and yet another way in Italian. Whenever I introduce myself in a foreign language, I try and say my name as they would say it. It almost feels like I’m taking on a new identity…and I like it.
I also gave my daughter a name that would be easy to pronounce in multiple languages, trying to think ahead and hopefully save her some hassle. The things we consider!!😂
I made a similar decision with my son, Theo. His name can be pronounced in Spanish, English and Dutch; my hope was that, no matter where he chooses to live, he can feel understood, starting with his name :)
That is beautiful.
🙏
Sííííí, nuestro nombre contiene todo. I have experienced exactly what you described with my given name (as did my own brother Julio), until like you, I pivoted and started introducing myself with the Spanish pronunciation of my name (Luna is just my apodo). Thank you for sharing your experience, Julio!
Hi Luna, thank you so much for your comment, and what a beautiful name your brother has :)
I'm glad we connected through this story!
I think I have never thought about it…even though as a Latin American woman I have a middle name, which I never bring because no one can pronounce it. So I stayed with the first name, Monica. I think, because it has always been easier for non spanish speakers to pronounce it. But, I sometimes forget I am “Mónica”… with the accent.
Something to reflect next time I meet someone and I introduce myself as “Mónica”… also an act of respect for my roots!
If it made you reflect on your own identity, it served its purpose :) Gracias Mónica!
So well written!! I see both sides— I introduce myself as “Rachele” sometimes in Italy… I use it at restaurants, and when I don’t feel like explaining. When people tell me it’s a beautiful name, I say ‘grazie, non e il mio nome ma grazie comunque’ (thanks, it’s not my name, but thanks). However, when someone takes the time (especially when English isn’t their native language) to say my name for real “right”? It’s a whole new level of warmth for that person every single time.
Thanks Rachel!
I have been there, and tweaked my name to 'Julian' back in those Starbucks days... But like you say, it feels so nice when someone gets it right, or simply puts in the effort, and most of the times its up to us to give them that chance :)
Exactly! It’s so interesting being deeply attached to your name as identity AND feeling fluid with it being mispronounced
This is an important statement. I once worked on Ruth Klüger's self-commented poems. In one of these commentaries, she noted how often Americans would mispronounce European names, and most embarrassingly the names of Nazi concentration camps (she was born to a Jewish Austrian family and emigrated to the US with her mother after they survived the Shoah). It was a while ago so I don't remember which exact poem she was commenting on, but she basically said that "anyone can learn how to pronounce a name correctly". I think her point was the same as yours: respecting an individual's and a people's integrities by acknowledging this basic yet fundamental proof of their identities.
My first name is pan-European, so it's pronounced differently depending on where I am and who I'm talking to. And in France where I live, people only rarely tend to ask how to pronounce my Dutch name correctly. The only Francophones that get it right are the Belgians, of course. I don't mind any of those situations anymore, although I do appreciate it when people at least try to show some interest, even politely. The fact that I'm a French citizen in my own country has probably to do with the relaxed way I envision it, of course, although I did emphasize my Dutch heritage in my twenties (probably because I've been quite deeply cut off from it and tried to regain it as much as possible).
Some cultures are also more mindful of foreign languages, like Germany where I lived for two years. Both acquaintances and friends would always pronounce my name the French way, with varying thickness of accent. German also contains a plethora of French terms, so that helps, but they do it with Dutch, English, Spanish and Italian as well (again, with varying degrees of success, but at least they try). Being a learner of Japanese, I like how funny my name sounds in that language. And as a translator more broadly, I'm a bit torn between letting people flavor my name in their local tongue and correcting them. But in the opposite direction, I almost always learn how to pronounce a foreign name as it is said in the original language. A double standard, one could say!
I find really interesting the point you raise on how different cultures might have a higher level of respect or "effort as respect" in trying to pronounce names properly. Definitely a perspective worth exploring.
Thanks for your thoughtful comment, I loved the quote from Ruth Klüger.
Congratulations, Julio! I agree with your view. Honestly, I had never thought of this before. Probably because I have always lived in Spain, and also because my name, Victor, is easy for English-speaking speakers to pronounce. This post has been meaningful to me because it has been the first one I have read after not signing in to Substack for some weeks. I didn't follow Julio; I saw the post in a restack by my friend Pili Cuadrado. Yesterday evening, I watched an old-fashioned kids' show on a Spanish streaming platform, and I heard something very similar. I watched it totally randomly, and one of the characters asked the same question about the name of a rose that is at the beginning of this post. I love this kind of synchronicity!
Thank you so much Víctor. In all honesty, I wonder if I'd written this piece had I had a different name. I'm glad we got to meet each other through Pili, a big part of this small community we are building around shared topics.
PS I love the coincidence with those cartoons, everything happens for a reason :)
So funny, I was thinking only days ago how people not pronouncing your name correctly over a very long period of time has an effect on your perception of self!
Thank you so much for your comment. It is indeed a matter of respect and acknowledging one another!