My name is my identity. I do not mean that as in, it is how I am identified or what my friends call when they see me in a crowd unexpectedly. I mean that my name is who I am, it is where I come from, and it is who I come from. This is why I will not apologize for how it might be difficult to pronounce or spell or write or how it may be of some inconvenience.
Lately, I’ve been thinking back to when I was a kid and trying to balance coming from a Latino immigrant household and going to an almost all white school, with barely anyone who looked like me, let alone came from the same country. Specifically, this week I have been dwelling on one specific moment. I was seven, and I was a Girl Scout. We had some event and we were supposed to wear nametags. When one of the moms was writing mine, she asked me how to spell it and I told her. She asked “can I just leave out the ‘U’, make it easier for people?”. I doubt she meant anything hurtful by it, she probably just wanted to make things more comfortable and easier for everyone present. It didn’t feel right, but I was seven and she was a grown up, so I said yes.
If that happened today I would say no.
This is not necessarily an issue of race or ethnicity. This is not about you. This is about me. My first name is the same as my mothers. It commemorates her. Her triumphs, her failures, her joys, her sorrows, everything about her, it is a piece of her that will always be with me. My middle name was given to me by my mother in commemoration of a teacher she had, who was kind and compassionate to her and believed in her throughout a hard childhood. My last name is my father's, it is my piece of my father, which is why, should I get married, I will not get rid of it.
My name is a mark of my heritage. It is what states that I am Guatemalan. It is something my parents, who sacrificed everything for my brothers and I, chose to give me. I am already a light-skinned Latina. I speak Spanish, but anyone who grew up with that as their first language can catchy my slight English accent. On top of that, I am in college. There is this perpetuated stereotype about Latinos. That we are all deeply tan. We have dark hair (often curly), dark eyes, and Spanish accents and are not educated. This is a stereotype I do not fit very well, obviously, and is an untrue and unjust stereotype anyway. I can very easily pass for white. There isn’t anything wrong with being white at all, it’s just that I am not.
Maybe to others changing one letter is not a big deal. It’s just a name, right? Except it’s not ‘just a name’, it’s my name. It is the sacrifices my parents made, my culture, my heritage, and the place where I come from. To change one letter is to change the origin of my name from Spanish to Hebrew, and my family is filled with Latino Catholics.
Lately, I’ve been thinking of my name, how when I was younger I wished it was something different, like Emma. I don’t wish that anymore. I’ve come to realize that if people can learn to spell and pronounce Dostoevsky and Tchaikovsky, they can certainly learn to spell and pronounce Maura Yanes or simply just ask.
