More Than Just A Name
It was only a couple of weeks ago when I called for an inquiry for clarification regarding my COVID-19 second-dose vaccination. The staff who picked up my call sounded like they were in a rush, tired, and wanted to quickly end the call. It was laid in their voice that I could understand where the discomfort was coming from. However, when they wanted to confirm myself with my full name, they said the first name and just refused to continue and said, “I can’t! I can’t!”
At the moment, I brushed it off and moved on, because it was definitely not the first time someone mispronounced or had difficulties in saying it. However, it was the first time in my life someone actively decided to refuse to say it because, simply, it was just too hard.
It has been more common in the past two years that I would write: “Hi, my name is Dewa Ayu Dwi Damaiyanti Sastrawan, more familiarly known as Yanti.” One of the reasons I have had in doing this is to clarify to the recipient since my registered name in my last study programme lead to the creation of my student account email as:
dewaayudwidamaiyanti.sastrawan.xxxx@uni.com. Of the weird things that have happened with my name, finding out this student email was one of the ridiculous moments where I wasn’t sure how to react, ending with half-loud laughter and a near-burst of a cry.
I have had my share of challenges in having a long name, ironically mostly in Indonesia (where I am originally from), from your daily typos to not being able to fit the whole thing on an application form. Still, I have memorable moments such as the kind English woman who checked my ticket to the Harry Potter Studio Tour at Leavesden Studios, where she attentively looked at it and said, “How theatrical!” As well as my good Brazilian friend who I met from my recent study programme, actually learning to pronounce every single name and being able to say it in full.
Long full names like mine are commonly found, particularly among native Balinese people. Having both parents who were born and raised in native Balinese society, everyone in my family shares the same trait in our names. To put it simply, my name grasps the origins of my parents, the order of my birth, my given name, as well as my father’s family name. Most Balinese names may be similar to this structure but not all Balinese names are formulated the same. Yet it is one I am familiar with, particularly because of not being born and raised in Bali like my parents were.
Not long after I experienced that phone call, I came across a poem by Meleika Gesa-Fatafehi titled, ‘Say My Name’. It was a poem that recalled how heritage and history intertwine within a name, carrying origins and forming identity. It calls out to those who have mispronounced them and standing their ground in claiming their respect for the name. As the last verse ended, the poem bears as an important piece to me.
In my upbringing, it was the layer of origins forming into my identity that I gripped tightly as I always say that the most Balinese trait I have is my name. Meleika’s poem articulates what their name carries and what it has endured, the journeys it embodies and the spirit it recites. For me, the poem called out the roots of your name, and that is what it is: one’s full name carries their roots.
It’s not only what they identify with, as roots bear more than just an identity: your works, your art, your stories, your family, your traits, your comfort, your familiarity, your calling, your beauty, your promises, your customs, your pride, your strengths, each of these and much more encompass the weight. Whether you’d want to live up to what your name bears or not, a name essentially is more than just a name.
So, consider the next time to not disregard mispronouncing someone’s name, or recognise your hesitation and take account. If you’re unsure, ask—I, for one, do not mind clarifying. And for the sake of us all whose names have been butchered, mispronounced, and disregarded, do not rudely decline to say it in such haste. In the words of Meleika’s poem:
‘Say it right or don’t say it at all.’
For each time you refuse pronouncing my name, the more apparent it is that you disregard me as a human with a name.
