A Name: The Trademark of Personal Identity and Cultural Significance
Eddie. A simple and easy nickname for Eduardo. There is nothing inherently wrong with “Eddie”, yet as I encounter more people who insist on addressing me as “Eddie”, I’ve come to despise the nickname more and more. At first, I didn’t mind the nickname and even preferred it over my actual name. But, I soon became self-aware that to reject and anglicize my name, I am destroying the very roots that connect me to my Mexican heritage. Growing up in the white suburbs of Redondo Beach California made it difficult enough to maintain a connection to my culture, but whitewashing my name so that it was easier to pronounce made it as though I was ashamed of where I had come from. Every one should find pride in their name as it is the tether that keeps us connected to our culture and ancestors in allowing us to lay claim to our identity.
As the son of two Mexican immigrants, it is of no surprise that I was named after my dad. Being named after my dad, not only represents a connection to my Hispanic heritage but also a connection to my family that came before me. The indigenous tribe of the Inuit holds similar values when it comes to naming their children as they believe “naming is an act that symbolizes continuity and a connection to family and tradition. Names are passed down through several generations to commemorate each person who has previously held that name” (“Names, Language and Individual Identity’’). The idea of celebrating one’s ancestors through preserving a name over multiple generations emphasizes how names form such an integral part of identity. For many, names serve as a celebration of the past and their ancestors, and to disregard a name as just a means to address others erases any connection that person has to their family. In Hispanic families, the father’s name is often passed on so that the name can continue living on through generations. I inherited my father’s name, but in changing my name, I’ve essentially tossed away an intimate connection to not only my dad but my entire family as a whole.
But, at the same time, my father was guilty of the very same thing. He also adopted the nickname “Eddie” upon immigrating to the United States. My father’s use of the nickname only served to reinforce my initial disregard for my name. It is likely my father used this nickname as his means to more easily assimilate into American culture. Although it is understandable why he used a nickname, that is not to say that the cultural significance of our name should be valued any less. Regardless, we both took our culturally rich names for granted and found ourselves in the position of sacrificing where we come from for the sake of better fitting into society.
To be ashamed of one’s culture is truly cowardly, and I will be the first to admit, I was cowardly. I felt as if it were my fault that others struggled to pronounce my name, which in term prevented me from ever correcting anyone when it was mispronounced. I refused to stand up for myself and demand the respect I deserved, and unsurprisingly many other kids fell subject to the same line of reasoning. In a Washington Post article that was anonymously published by an eleventh-grade high school teacher, the teacher explores why students do not feel a need to correct her when she mispronounces their names. After much reflection on the issue, she concludes that her students “have learned to bow all too quickly to authority-even when it comes to how to properly pronounce a name” (“The Importance of a Name”). In not correcting their teacher, these students begin to strip their names of the respect it deserves. And unknowingly, after years and years of having their names mispronounced, these students, and many others are conditioned into believing that their name and its pronunciation is unimportant. In reality, our name is what humanizes us and keeps us grounded. For many years I had failed to understand that simplifying my name to please others was depriving me of the respect I deserved. After a certain point I began to care less about whether my name was pronounced correctly, but more about my name being used at all. I wanted to fit in, and I was willing to sacrifice my name, and thus my connection to my heritage to feel like I belonged.
However, the sense of belonging I had been chasing was not genuine, and would never be genuine until I reclaim my individuality. Towards the end of the New York Times article, the teacher says “I want them to know that people respect them, their culture, and their individuality” (“The Importance of a Name”). Through highlighting the connection between a person’s name and their identity, it can be said that to diminish the value of one’s name is to diminish the value of their individuality. This is exactly what her students had been doing, and it is exactly what I had fallen victim to as a young kid trying to fit in. The desire to belong had clouded my judgment, which is why any sense of belonging that I had acquired never felt real. It is not until I would find pride in my name, that I could form a better idea of who I was as a person and thus create more meaningful relationships.
Eventually, I began to recognize the importance of my name and I entered a period in which I tried to reclaim my connection to being Hispanic. I began using Eduardo again, but after some time, I found myself adding a white accent to my name instead of pronouncing it in Spanish. “It’s just easier that way,” that’s what I would tell myself. But who is it easier for? It’s not easy for me, I could pronounce Eduardo properly without skipping a beat. No, it’s easier for everyone else. Again, I had found myself in a position of sacrificing my cultural identity for the sake of trying to fit in. In reality, the desire to fit in is at the root of everyone’s shame. We choose not to share certain parts of ourselves solely because we are afraid of how others might perceive us if we disclose the more intimate parts of who we are. This is especially true for the children of immigrants. As all first-generation, Americans are aware, life at home and life at school are two completely different worlds. Learning how to navigate both aspects of our lives proves to be one of the very first identity conflicts we must learn to confront. The only way to confront this issue is through equally embracing both sides of the same coin, which includes our given names.
A large part of what made accepting my name difficult is the fact that others often make assumptions about a person’s character solely based on their name. In an article published by the New Yorker, it is stated that research suggests that “names can influence the choice of profession, where we live, whom we marry, the grades we earn, the stocks we invest in, whether we’re accepted to a school or are hired for a particular job, and the quality of our work in a group setting” (Maria Konnikova). Although it may not be deliberate, people subconsciously make judgments in their heads depending on how a person’s name sounds. Essentially, the way a person’s name may sound on paper has the potential to greatly influence whether you are accepted for a job, a loan, club, or even school.
Such radical judgment on my character was frightening and made it even easier to feel isolated. This is a major reason as to why I had become complacent with people calling me “Eddie”. I was very aware that my name sounds overtly Hispanic and I feared people would form an opinion about me simply upon hearing my name. In my mind, my name was the issue, when in reality it is the fact that others associate my name with certain qualities that are problematic. Shedding this mindset that I was the problem proved to be no easy task. It involved letting go of what others might think and came with the realization that losing my connection to where I come from was even more frightening than how others might perceive who I am. Only I know who I am.
I am very much aware that my experience is not unique, it is just fascinating how immigrants and minority groups are the ones who have to give up their identities to please others. There are people from other countries that change their entire names so that it is more white passing instead of holding others accountable for expanding their worldview. But, at the same time, as immigrants, we must not dilute the cultural significance of our names through the use of alternate nicknames or aliases. Names form such a critical component of a person’s identity, as they are means by which an individual can claim who they are as a person. It is time we begin to reclaim who we are.
Works Cited
Konnikova, Maria. “Why Your Name Matters.” The New Yorker, 19 Dec. 2013, www.newyorker.com/tech/annals-of-technology/why-your-name-matters.
“Language, Names, and Individual Identity.” Facing History and Ourselves, www.facinghistory.org/stolen-lives-indigenous-peoples-canada-and-indian-residential-schools/chapter-1/language-names-and-individual-identity.
Strauss, Valerie. “The Importance of a Name.” The Washington Post, WP Company, 24 Apr. 2019, www.washingtonpost.com/news/answer-sheet/wp/2014/09/19/the-importance-of-a-name/
