When my parents immigrated to the US in the 1970s, they slapped white bread names on all of us: you know, of the Bob, Bill, Dick variety. They were abiding by the conventional wisdom of the time - that by giving us easy to pronounce, American names, we would have less difficulties assimilating into the predominately white suburb where we were moving. But even the simplest of first names could not diffuse the timebomb of mockery that was our relatively difficult to pronounce surname.
I don't believe there was a single person (except other Chinese-Americans) throughout my elementary or secondary school years who pronounced my last name correctly. And the most common mispronunciation of my last name rhymed with "banger". Or "bonger" (depending on who was mispronouncing it). Which, of course, became my "official" nickname.
The name was born in mockery. It was meant to remind me (and others) that I was not just like everyone else. That differences made you "special", but not in a good way. I think I must have had an extraordinarily thick skin back then (ah... but no longer!) because I so convincingly laughed it off that the name metamorphasized out of its ugliness. It became almost a term of endearment, all the venom extracted. It was even passed (and accepted grudgingly) to my younger sister.
Names are not just some words slapped on a paper given to us against our control. Names have all sorts of meanings, some historical, some contextual, all personal. My parents, in the context of their time and their situation, chose to give us names of our adopted country so that we could belong. Barack's parents, in the context of their time and their situation, chose to give him names belonging to his father's homeland so that he could belong. The craze in modern China is for people to choose their own English name when they are young adults and it has become such a statement of their budding personality and individuality that you see extraordinarily unique names like: Strawberry, Diptheria (met her, not kidding), Zeus, Jagery, Money, Cinderella, Coldness, Diva, Mortal, Samanfar, Smacker. They, too, are just trying to belong.
How extraordinary that we have moved into a millenium where a man running for the top office in the United States has felt no need to hide or change or Anglicize or even explain his unusual first, middle or last name. How wonderful that his differences didn't get "bongerized". And just when we were proving to the world - see, we were right about the great American experiment afterall - you, Bill, you had to reveal your hairy, knuckle skimming neanderthal ass. You, Bill Cunningham, you definitely need a time out.
Kady plays fair at Loaded Dice.
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