Taiwan Inside Out
What’s in a Chinese Name?
Names carry meaning — so I went to a fortune teller to find a new one
Walking through Chiang Kai Shek Memorial Hall, I was recently struck by the different names the political leader used throughout his life.
At first, he was Chiang Zhoutai (蔣周泰) — a formal name used by extended relatives, and then Chiang Ruiyuan (蔣瑞元) — used by close family.
Next, he became Chiang Zhiqing (蔣志清) — a name he chose at school, and then Chiang Jieshi (蔣介石) — a pen name he used in Japan and which is spelled Chiang Kai Shek in the Cantonese romanization.
Later on, he became Chiang Zhongzheng (蔣中正), chosen to evoke Sun Yat-sen’s Zhong-shan (中山) and establish himself as Sun’s successor.
Through this example, I learned that changing one’s name has been relatively common in Chinese and Taiwanese history — many people change their name when they enter a new stage, such as marriage, childbirth, or a new phase in their career.
Religious leaders or fortunetellers often suggest names based on a person’s birthday and characters’ number of strokes and radicals that will bring good fortune.
Making a name change too easy can have a few drawbacks, too, though. Last year, over 300 people in Taiwan changed their names to include the Chinese characters for “salmon” (鮭) to take advantage of a sushi restaurant promotion.
Taiwan allows citizens up to three name changes throughout their life, but the recent marketing stunt was hard to swallow for the authorities. Some of the new “Salmons” are now past this limit and are still struggling to revert to their old names.
Choosing an English name can be no less complicated.
Most Taiwanese students receive an English name that sounds similar to their real name when they start learning English, just like students of Chinese get a name from their first teacher (laoshi).
Some parents want to get a head start — this prompted Beau Jessup, a student from the UK, to create Special Name, a website where Chinese-speaking parents can choose an English name based on the qualities they hope for in their child.
The service helps avoid awkward miscommunications or inappropriate translations. So far, over one million users have chosen a name on the website.
A few of my Taiwanese friends said their parents chose their names with the help of a fortuneteller. A mother reportedly changed her son’s name at the age of 7 to avoid bringing bad luck.
I’ve used Mulan (木蘭) since I first started learning Chinese in high school. In a way, I’ve had it longer than my legal name, Hana, which I changed from Khanna before starting college to limit spelling and pronunciation mistakes.
As a child, I watched the Disney movie about the Chinese heroine many times over — I admired her strength and toughness, so when it came time to choose a Chinese name, I decided to be Mulan.
I love my Chinese name, mainly since it differs from most students’ in that it is not phonetically similar to my legal name. But I was certainly not considering stroke numbers or birthdays when I chose it — perhaps there was a better, more traditional fit for me?
Intrigued by my friends’ stories, I went to Fortunetellers’ Street near Xingtian Temple (行天宮 — Xingtian Gong) in search of a new name.
I stopped for some guidance by the temple, where a volunteer told me the temple does not support name changes, though he seemed open to the idea of helping parents who bring name suggestions for their children.
Instead, he advised me to use divination blocks, or “jiao bei” (筊杯 or 珓杯) to inquire whether the Chinese name I have currently suits me.
I stood in the temple courtyard and concentrated hard on my name, address, birthday, and question: “My name is Bai Mulan. Is it good for me?” (我的名字叫白木蘭，對我好不好?).
The two blocks fell different sides up, a positive answer.
Despite this confirmation, I headed into the underpass between Minquan and Songjiang Roads to try my luck with a fortune teller.
Many of the stands advertised services in foreign languages, like English and Japanese. After asking for my birthday and current English and Chinese names, the fortuneteller told me to come back the next day as it would take some time to find a suitable name.
She also read my fortune, which is another day’s story.
When I returned, the fortuneteller gave me a list of characters to mix and match, as well as a few options she thought were especially fitting: He Hong-jia (何虹嬌) and He Yi-jing (何宜静).
She noted that my birthday and the information she concluded from my fortune spoke to a “strong” nature that should be tempered by other aspects of life, including my name.
Although I plan to keep my name, I enjoyed learning about the process of getting a new name, and the weight names carry in Taiwanese culture.
Some foreigners even get tattoos of their Chinese names to mark their time abroad. That said, I’ll stick to writing mine on my homework for now.
