When I was a kid there was a large emphasis on changing names of Latino students and occasionally Asian students. It seemed like every other kid got to keep their name. Like teachers would bend over backward to correctly pronounce the names of white students, yet names like Josue, Fabiola, and even Erika were altered in some way. They were whitewashed or shortened, supposedly for our benefit.
Our names are part of our culture and our culture had to be erased by teachers so we could be American. As if being born here wasn’t enough. Or being raised here. Or living here. As if we didn’t already have to give up so much to be considered American while so many others got to cling to every aspect of their parents, grandparents, or even great-grandparents culture. So 'eh-ree-kah' becomes 'er-i-kuh' and 'Josue' becomes 'Jay' all for the sake of fitting in. And we were told to be grateful.
To be honest, I didn’t really see a problem with it when I was a child. I thought it was so cool that I had now had a “white” name, a way to connect with my fellow classmates despite my language barrier. I felt American, just like my teacher said.
But along the way, the divide between my Mexican heritage and the American culture I was told to embrace seemed bigger and bigger and right in the middle was my name. I felt like I had to choose.
Would I be completely American and hang on to the mispronunciation of my name, to the “freedom” that didn’t allow me to embrace my roots? Would I have to forget Spanish, my first language and the way I communicated with my family, like so many others I met along my schooling career?
Everywhere I looked, it seemed like people were having to decide between being Mexican and being American.
Yet, if you do choose, you are still questioned, usually by your own peers. I will never forget the day a classmate looked me in the eye, after years of purposefully misspelling and mispronouncing my name to suit her own needs, and said, "Not to be offensive, but your full name doesn't really sound good all together. "
Erika Diana Salazar Tapia sounds amazing when pronounced correctly (as do most names). But I was taught to introduce myself with a bastardized version so I wouldn’t be seen as “other.”
After that day, I started questioning everything I had been taught about my name, and even though I wanted to correct the way I introduced myself, the way people pronounced my name, I felt trapped. How could I explain to my friends why I suddenly changed the pronunciation of my name? Would they understand or would they ridicule me and say I was un-American? So I kept mispronouncing my name and letting others mispronounce it. But I shouldn’t have to. Nobody should.
Our names are part of who we are. I am American, but I am also Mexican. Contrary to the belief society has tried to push, I can be both. I can be Mexican American. I can have pride in my first language and my name, and pride in the country I was born in and the values it seeks to uphold.
Our names are part of our identities. Don't change them.