My name is usually related to the beautiful Disney princess who was hopelessly in love with Aladdin. The princess was shown a whole new world on a flying carpet with the street rat “Prince Ali," so to be named after a princess would be a dream come true to a cute five-year-old Asian girl in pigtails. It would feel as though the Blue Fairy swooped into her white windowsill and granted her any wish. That girl would be me. However, my parents named me after the jasmine flower, a sweet smelling and waxy-white flower.

I would have never imagined it. Me? A fragrant flower? Highly unlikely. Yet I can somewhat understand how my name relates to me in an interesting way: my pale white skin. According to my parents, while I was a crying infant in the nursery, my skin was pale and white, which was beautiful in Chinese beauty standards. That’s how the name “Jasmine” identifies who I am as an individual.

Like many other people, there are complications about my name. For starters, Jasmine is a pretty common name. But then what about Jasmin, Jazmine, Jazmyn, Yasmine? It’s still pronounced the same. The only difference is that it’s spelled differently. Completely useless as using a stapler to cut paper, but why does it matter? Well, many people go by the name “Jasmine” in my school. It would just be easier to call all the Jasmines by their last names, right? Yet people choose to use nicknames instead, which has infuriated me since grade six. These nicknames sometimes were plain rude or just completely insulting. For instance, people used to call me the “bigger Asian Jasmine” back in middle school. This experience made me despise my name. Why am I Jasmine? Why can’t I be Heather? Or Vienna? Each day, I clenched my fists, preventing myself from bursting out into tears or anger. I detested my name. In fact, I believe my insecurities started since then as a preteen. So yes, my middle school experience was not exactly the best. Yet, sometimes it wasn’t as bad.

My closest friends would call me JJ, which occasionally eases my mind. I believed that I was unique, and there was not another Jasmine like me in the school. My fists unclenched, and I was able to take a breath of relief. It allowed me to think of myself as an individual instead of trying to figure out ways for me to be distinguished from other Jasmines. Ironically, my nickname brought me down to and back up again from my pain.

Things barely stopped at my first name. For someone to imagine having the name “Jasmine” was so extremely stressful, it was impossible. But having the last name “Hsieh” definitely has caused many complications. Unlike “Jasmine,” I did not suffer from insecurities. Instead, I spend my entire life watching people attempt to pronounce my last name as if it was a game. Honestly, I appreciated how they wanted to try to correctly pronounce my last name. On the other hand, sometimes I imagine they are making fun of my last name — not a great feeling. I feel awkward. Insulted. Irritated. It’s not like I loathe my last name; I treasure it with all my heart. It is originated from an ancient noble family. It means “thank you” in Chinese. It has a gentlemanly meaning. But I hate how it is difficult to pronounce it. I absolutely hate it.

Out of all the people in the entire world, I believe that my name is the most difficult to deal with. Yet at the end of the day, I realize that my name makes me unique; I doubt all the other Jasmines were called Jasmine because of the Jasmine flower. Also, I’m the only person in the entire school with the last name “Hsieh.” But common or uncommon, I will always appreciate and accept the name that my parents picked out for me. I will forever proudly call myself “Jasmine Hsieh."