My surname, Ekdawi (ek-da-wi), originates from Egypt – it came here to the UK with my grandad, who emigrated as a young man. Changing it from the Arabic alphabet to the Roman one upon his relocation to Europe, he originally spelt it ‘Ekdaoui’, his second language, French, peeking through, before he realised a phonetic spelling might be ‘easier’ for the English to pronounce… but he wasn’t exactly right.
I’ve always felt very proud of my surname, particularly how it makes me feel connected to my Egyptian heritage and my beloved grandad, but at the same time I have always been aware of it being a ‘difficult’ name. One example is always having to listen carefully in pharmacies, or at doctor’s appointments, for when they call my name; I am not only listening for my actual name but any possible mispronunciation of it. An early memory I have of attempting to resolve this issue is creating a rhythmic song in an attempt to get the spelling to stick in my head as a small child, which I would then share with other kids (and teachers) who found it difficult to spell. However, I don’t think it was until secondary school that I noticed my name being mispronounced frequently in things like assemblies, or curious new teachers taking the register asking “oooh, where’s that name from?” Though it was annoying to be constantly called “Olivia Edwarkee” in assembly, I accepted this as part and parcel of having a ‘foreign’ name, like so many others in my secondary school. It was (and is) especially easy for me to accept, since I’m white and have a very English (and ridiculously popular) first name. Perhaps the way I look is incongruous with an unusual name meaning people are surprised, which is why the ‘where are you really from’ questions come into the conversation. Just laughing off the mispronunciations seemed to work at shrugging off uneasy feelings about it.
But recently, at a formal dinner with alumni in college, my surname on both the seating plan outside the hall and on the place card at my seat was spelt “Dakawi”. I laughed at how hardly any of the letters were in the right place and there were several missing and added, but I was (probably barely) concealing the way it really made my heart sink. I was surprised that it could possibly be misspelt when the correct spelling is accessible everywhere, most obviously on my university email address. It was evidently laziness, then, that had caused this mistake and if I’m being honest it made me feel embarrassed, and I hid the place card.
Zulekha Nathoo argues that “strategically mispronouncing someone’s name is a way of othering someone,” but I’d even say that at times, a non-strategic, accidental mispronunciation or misspelling has a similar effect in the sense that it shows a laziness for those ‘difficult’ names, suggesting a lack of respect for those who the name belongs to. Sometimes I have wondered how football fans can perfectly pronounce the name of any player, no matter how ‘difficult’ it seems, but I recently learnt that each Premier League footballer and manager is asked to say their own name before the season, so that the commentators can get it correct. This seems such a simple idea which makes so much sense–it would be great if there was more of this attempt to try and get names right in day-to-day life, such as in the workplace or in schools. Interestingly, they do this based on how the player themselves want their name to be pronounced, not necessarily the ‘correct’ pronunciation: for example, Erling Haaland wants his name to be pronounced the English way rather than the Norwegian way. Also, players like Will Hughes and Dean Henderson are asked to pronounce their names, not just because it makes it fair for everyone to do it, but also because this is used internationally, so commentators from anywhere in the world, where this name might not be so easily pronounceable, can now pronounce it. Rana Srinivasan, PhD, conducted research on name-based microaggressions, focusing on the experience of South Asian Americans. She concluded that “Participants in my study reported feeling validated when others asked for the correct pronunciation of their names. It is therefore recommended that clinicians and educators ask individuals how their name is pronounced and put their best effort into repeating it back to them as it was said.” While it is crucial to carry out proper research as Srinivasan has done for changes to be made, these results seem so sadly obvious.
Last summer at a graduation ceremony, someone I know overheard a professor talking about the mispronunciations of ‘tricky’ names in the ceremony, joking that ‘foreign names go to die on an English tongue’. The professor was evidently attempting a joke about the fact that many English speakers find non-English names difficult, but really, those people with non-English names became the butt of the joke. Many would consider graduation to be one of the most important days of their lives, and to have their names butchered for lack of trying is so belittling of, and distracting from, the huge achievement they should be celebrating. “Habitually pronouncing an unfamiliar name incorrectly is a form of implicit discrimination. It sends a message that “you are minimal”, says Xian Zhao. “You are not important in this environment, so why should I take time and my effort to learn it?”” Srinivasan explains that “there is a tendency for White European names and whiteness in general to be perceived as normative, whereas racial minorities with names of religious and ethnic origins may be seen as an inconvenience.”
All this led me to post something on social media to see what the experience was like for others. It seemed to fall along a spectrum, from people who found it vaguely annoying but didn’t think much of it to people who seemed weary of this recurring issue.
Changing and Anglicising Names
Many of the responses I received said that they changed their names to make it ‘easier’, such as Isidora, who told me that “I always made it Izzy because it was more common, but I don’t think it really bothered me because growing up I wanted to be more English!” This was a common thing that came up in my research for this article, this idea of changing names to make them more palatable being tied to assimilation. When living in Scotland just after moving from Egypt, it was suggested to my grandad that he change his name to ‘MacDawi’ in order to make it easier for the locals to understand. Nikole also said “I remember being annoyed in Year 7 because everyone’s Instagram names were their full names but mine didn’t fit and felt off somehow,” and told me that her older sister had removed the Greek name from her double-barrelled surname on her Facebook profile “so it was more palatable. I think a palatable name becomes important when you value social acceptance.” Srinivasan argues “I do not feel that one should have to give up part of their personal identity in order to be seen,” yet it is evident that this is a byproduct of growing up in a climate where non-English names aren’t often respected.
‘Invalid’ Names
Lina said that “I’m never able to enter the ‘á’ in my surname (Kovács) and it just feels wrong not having it there, it always says: ‘Please enter valid name.’” Nathoo argues “getting it wrong over and over in this climate “could be a blatant or explicit message to the individual that they’re not a normative member of that environment or that setting.” Hamish told me that they have a “Scottish Gaelic deadname – nobody ever pronounced it right, so I gave up correcting. My sister has been told her Irish Gaelic name ‘makes no sense’ or that the pronunciation is ‘ridiculous’.”
Phonetic Names
Isidora shared my frustration about mispronunciation despite phonetics, and said that people frequently pronounce her name wrong “even though it’s easy to pronounce following phonetics!” Naomi told me that “people always stumble over my name which surprises me because it’s literally phonetic,” which Nikole had also experienced, as her surname “is pronounced exactly as it’s spelt but people always trip up on it.” Naomi also commented that “I think I am mispronouncing my own name from anglicising multiple languages. People do tend to ask about my name’s origin but I tend to make white people work harder for it.” Lalitha said that “I find a lot of people forget the pronunciation and then won’t ask to be reminded of it so I end up with a lot of different variations and then I feel a bit guilty for attempting to enforce the right pronunciation. I don’t mind people getting it wrong or forgetting, I just would massively prefer they ask when not sure.”
Names at School
Mina said “I think the funniest was a teacher insisting we pronounce her surname right every lesson, whilst calling me ‘Minahili’ when I told her Mina was just fine.” Niamh said “I’d say maybe 70% of teachers get my name wrong the first time they say it, they always hesitate when they get to me on the register and I’ve had some pretty random interpretations […] People joke around with my name a lot as well which is fine, just interesting as they won’t do that with English names…”
Amanda Young quotes Dr. Ali Michael: “Teachers can “justify the microaggressions they commit a thousand times over with what they believe are legitimate excuses (busyness, age, sheer exhaustion), good intentions (almost always positive, loving, caring), and logical explanations (I do this with everyone).” Young argues that these “microaggressions” are rooted in Eurocentrism. There is also indeed a pipeline of this kind of behaviour around names continuing into the workplace. Amanda Young writes that “in today’s society, our names dictate a lot: they can be the reason you get – or don’t get– an interview for a job or even a second look at your resume.” Research has found that there is a much more sinister side to this, too. A study found that “nearly half of black and Asian job applicants who altered their resumés did so by changing the presentation of their name in an effort to erase any racial cues.”
International Reception of Names
Cielo said that “It used to bother me more when I was younger. I don’t internalize it anymore, think about it as a language difference. Surprisingly, I did notice my name required less clarification in the UK than in the US. I think it has something to do with a proudly isolationist and monolingual culture in the US.” Maia told me that “my mum changed her name to my dad’s and instantly started getting jobs once she did so. She said it made her feel really sad, and this was when she was younger and had moved to London from Serbia, and she has more recently moved back to Serbia and doesn’t like England as much anymore” due to its “xenophobic” culture, and how she “feels more foreign here, and people don’t pronounce it right.” Saffron said that her surname leads to instant assumptions: “Khan: immediately people assume I’m Muslim and that I don’t drink, eat meat etc,” and that this comes from “mainly coworkers or people who are older” in the UK.
Names as a Debate
Despite all the academic research which highlights the importance of correctly spelling and pronouncing names, as well as my own informal discussions with people, there are dissenters. In an article for the Spectator, Patrick West decides that the mispronunciation of names is “the latest eggshell to avoid.” Evidently, he has done well to avoid it with his own complicated name. He does “try to empathise with” Emma Nabridnyj’s argument that “if you don’t have an unusual name, you’ll never really know the daily effort of having one,” but he doesn’t really get far with this as he writes: “Not everything revolves about one’s self, and not everything is about race. When it comes to names, to say the wrong thing–literally–is a normal, universal and eternal language occurrence.” This does seem an easy claim for him to make as a white man with a normative name. Amanda Young agrees that “being called the wrong name isn’t intrinsically offensive,” however states simply that “it’s not too much to ask to be called your actual name.”
Dimitri said that he is often “told I have a cool name, some people struggle with it, especially my surname.” Saranda said “It is a bit annoying as it’s harder for people to remember it but I don’t really mind and still love it.” Seher said “It doesn’t bother me that people get it wrong but it does when they don’t even try!”
Generally, the responses I received ranged from stronger feelings against names being misspelt or mispronounced to ones like these, which were aware of this as a slight issue. Only one response differed altogether: Will told me “I have a Romanian name that’s a pain to pronounce. Only two or three non-Romanians have ever got it, but it’s not deep. I don’t use the name because it’s boring to explain all the time but just see it as any other difficult word. Mispronunciation isn’t malign or lazy, it’s natural.”
I found each and every one of these responses incredibly insightful for writing this piece, and I hugely appreciate that people took the time to share their thoughts with me.
Names and the Future
While some of the research I have mentioned may lead to feelings of hopelessness, the fact that there is more research being conducted on this subject shows that there is a desire for change, and for unlearning name-based biases, such as the #MyNameIs campaign.
The organisation Race Equality Matters are the founders of a campaign called #MyNameIs, which is described on their website as “a simple but highly impactful solution that ensures the correct pronunciation of people’s names,” with an aim to “get people’s names right, which creates the opportunity for people to feel wanted, to feel like they belong, and to be treated with respect.”Srinivasan found that “individuals with racially and ethnically distinct names often experience a mix of pride and discomfort in association with the use of their names.” I certainly experienced this discomfort at that dinner, and this seems to be the case for many others, but I wanted to write this to put pride into practice. “Unusual” names are interesting, valid and important; they are deserving of respect. They tell a story about either our lives, or the lives that came before us; I want to relish in the pride my name gives me and I want you to do it too.