What’s in a name!
Identity. individuality. Self!
The phone rings. I push the answer on my screen. A woman’s voice says: “Is this Mee…umm…” she clears her throat. “mee…wail…lee?” I pull the phone away from my ear. She’s too loud.
“Is there someone around who speaks English?” She continues.
“I speak English,” I answer. “May I help you?”
“Oh!”
It was a medical office calling with a reminder for my upcoming appointment. I’m always willing to give a pass to those who don’t bother to ask. “How do you pronounce your first name?” That question usually starts a conversation where I tell the caller that my name is French, and I’d pronounce it correctly.
“Oh, it’s so pretty,” the caller would say, “and you have a beautiful accent to go with the name. You’re from France? I’m dying to go there.”
“No. I’m from Haiti.”
“Oh!”
No one’s dying to go to Haiti.
Decades ago, in a Boston high school, a teacher decided I was going to be Micki. She didn’t have the patience to let me have my name and I didn’t have the courage yet to fight to be called by it.
I had already left a lot on the shore of my home country to become an American. The early years were hard. I had to learn to adapt to so much: new language, new climate, new values, new races, new housing…
Then I lost my name.
What’s in a name?
Mine was chosen by my Papa. I was a Daddy’s girl. A name is your first identity. That’s what distinguishes you from everybody else. Even though I grew up in a neighborhood in Haiti with three other girls with the same name, but mine was unique to me in the context of my family. And when you add my last name to it, it is who I was born to be. Then I got married and picked up another last name.
My birth name connected me firmly to my individuality. When I became all these other people: American, wife, mother, immigrant, diaspora, Micki…What was my real identity?
“A person’s name is to him or her the sweetest and most important sound in any language.” — Dale Carnegie.
The day back in high school when I accepted to be called: Micki, I gave up more than I’d realized. But I didn’t want to frustrate people with my name and I sure didn’t want to call attention to myself in class, so I became that other person.
There’s a question on the naturalization and citizenship application, that allows the applicant to change his/her name. For months I considered it. I could pick Nancy, Irene, Carol…but in the end, I kept my birth name. The one my parents chose for me because it suited me.
“Why is it so important to use people’s names? A person’s name is the greatest connection to their own identity and individuality. Some might say it is the most important word in the world to that person.” —Joyce E. A. Russell.
Because someone has a name you can’t pronounce does not mean that person is dumb and deaf. Don’t speak too loudly. We can hear you just fine!
My name is: Mireille.
