At first look, my title seems easy sufficient, so far as phrases go: Anju. Four letters. Two syllables. One would suppose the pronunciation could be simple, however in Western cultures, it isn’t. And that actuality has led to a spread of pronunciations for me to select from.

When I watched Saoirse Ronan, the Irish American actor finest identified for her roles in “Lady Bird” and “Little Women,” clarify find out how to say her name in a current interview, I may instantly relate. As a first-generation Indian American born in Queens, typically talking, I don’t have a lot in frequent with Ronan. But on this method I’m deeply aware of her expertise — not simply with the train of patiently performing my title however in receiving the suggestions, “I don’t hear the difference” when demonstrating it in numerous accents: On-joo vs. Onh-ju vs. Un-ju, and so forth.

Though Ronan believes there’s a appropriate technique to pronounce her title, I consider there are various methods to say my title accurately. I don’t converse any languages exterior of English, however do really feel a powerful reference to my Indian ethnicity. And so, for me, the pronunciation of my title is versatile. The variations, reasonably than depicting a falsehood, are on an trustworthy spectrum of my multicultural id.

Growing up in Eighties Augusta, Georgia, I used to be Anne-joo—courtesy of my elementary college lecturers. On the primary day of faculty, I dreaded the lengthy pause throughout attendance each time a brand new trainer scanned their classroom of white, middle-class youths till discovering me. A scrawny, brown lady with bangs in her eyes. Unh-ju, I’d supply into the silence, my whole physique caving in — as if by making the goal of my bodily self smaller the influence of my embarrassment would even be smaller.

Unable to imitate my quiet intonation, after a number of tries my lecturers landed on a stuttered A-chew, An-chew, Anne-joo. That was enough. I used to be pleased to simply accept any speedy execution, or perhaps a full dismissal, of my title reasonably than draw consideration to its awkwardness. Heather, Dawn, Karen: These had been the names of the ladies in my courses. Anne-joo didn’t belong within the refrain of roll name.

At Georgia Tech, I introduced myself as Onh-ju, gifting my title with some softer components. Perhaps, I used to be emboldened by the spirit of faculty experimentation. More probably, the evolution was as a result of a delicate confidence and self-assuredness I intuited now amongst a heftier inhabitants of South Asians and Asians. Even nonetheless, individuals hardly ever stated my title, and I hardly ever stated it particularly.

Then, my junior 12 months as a educating assistant for a pc science class, I had a second of redemption. I keep in mind standing earlier than my friends introducing myself, saying my title aloud, Onh-ju, the primary syllable sliding into the opposite in a easy transition prefer it was essentially the most pure factor on the earth. Not desirous to let go of the sensation, I instinctively turned and wrote the phonetical pronunciation on the white board alongside the official spelling, for emphasis — and instruction.

To my dad and mom, or Indians of their era, I’m unequivocally Un-JU. Two palpably masculine syllables strung collectively in tight sequence. As a baby, I hated that my title led to a u. It appeared like a boy’s title and that grew to become the idea of my first battles with my dad and mom.

One night, as a fourth grader, I marched as much as my dad and yelled, “Why did you give me such a stupid name?” Fraught with despair, my anger collapsed right into a stream of tears. My father turned off the TV and checked out me, unable to understand my battle. “Anju is a such a cute name,” he stated, making an attempt to elucidate the title’s candy and endearing context in India. I didn’t care. I used to be inconsolable.

With so many stunning and elaborate Sanskrit names that poured out of our tradition — Lakshmi, Seema, Nandani, for instance — why couldn’t my dad and mom have picked a kind of? Anything ending in a female a or i would have been acceptable. They may’ve not less than executed me the favor, if not the justice, of giving me one of many fuller variations of my title. Anjali. Anjana. Ironically, my mother, a South Indian from Hyderabad, and my Punjabi dad immigrated from Delhi to the U.S. after marrying and had been pleased with themselves for mindfully selecting quick Indian names that Americans would discover “easy” to say.

But it’s not precisely straightforward, so my title code-switches on the fly. What feels proper in a single circumstance doesn’t essentially really feel proper in one other. I will be out, at a celebration as an example, and introduce myself as Un-ju to 1 particular person, On-ju to a different, and omit my title fully when speaking with another person. Even my boyfriends weren’t given a constant speech sample to abide by. Among my South Asian buddies, following some innate code of conduct, we’ll swap out the pronunciations of one another’s names. It’s comical when these teams combine and one pronunciation is confronted with one other. With sheepish expressions, they appear to me to referee the decision — who obtained it proper?

This rising consciousness for cultural variations and the need to wish to get it proper is heartwarming. Nowadays, I get the honest and well mannered query posed to me as a rule: How do you say your title? A marked enchancment from the de facto What a fantastic title! exclamations and What does it imply? questions that hardly ever got here throughout as a praise or with real curiosity, however as a automobile to masks confusion, or insult. What did my title imply? I had no thought. I by no means thought to ask, “What does Brian (or Kate) mean?” What a ridiculous query.

Mostly, I permit individuals a large margin of interpretation of find out how to say my title. Or I’ll give them two choices to select from. On-ju or Anne-ju, each are appropriate, I’ll say reassuringly. This isn’t as a result of it doesn’t matter to me. I permit for his or her variations as a result of, more often than not, I can and do establish with the pronunciation they’ve chosen — and in that method, we may have discovered some frequent floor during which we are able to know one another. There are exceptions, nonetheless. Occasionally individuals will mistake my title to include a Spanish j, as a substitute of a tough j, remodeling it to On-who, in these varieties of cases I’ll appropriate them.

It wasn’t till my late 20s that I wholly embraced my title. I used to be relationship an Indian man who was obsessed with graphic design — and design ideas at massive. At the time, I used to be additionally increasing my small enterprise and redesigning the emblem. He was the one who helped me see my title in another way. I started to achieve an appreciation of its symmetry — the steadiness of straight strains and curves when written in clear type-faced fonts.

As I sketched out concepts, the letters not solely visually happy me however symbolically appeared made for me. The mountainous A with its bar bridging east and west. The n probably being flipped the other way up to play the a part of a u. Then there was the j with its floating dot romantically wandering into the environment and anchoring hook. Launching Anjuthreads, my eyebrow threading enterprise, was a daring profession assertion. It had an equally daring demand — individuals must say my title. It was then that I blossomed into totally figuring out with my title.

On most days, I’m On-ju. This is my strongest, most versatile, most forgiving pronunciation. On-ju can stroll into any room with confidence. On-ju can put on a tiny bikini, a saree or pair of denims with an equal sense of self. She can embrace her heritage whereas opting-out of the elements of her tradition that don’t serve her. It is the title I default to at work, amongst combined teams, and gravitate towards.

I hardly ever hear Anne-joo today however once I do, it not evokes the battle I felt as a baby. Instead, I recall fond reminiscences of weekend events with 20 or so different Indian households and the neighborhood our dad and mom solid for us, enjoying within the band, and fifth interval lunch.

When I say my title in my head, I hear Un-ju. Un-ju is extra fragile. She is the title I name once I demand braveness of myself. She is the a part of me that feels distinctive and particular and able to daring, cinematic strikes. It is the pronunciation that ties me to my household and our experiences collectively. It’s a reputation I defend however not draw back from. It is a reputation I have fun and adore.

To those that query the authenticity of something exterior of the normal Un-ju pronunciation, I’m unbothered. My connection to my Indian ethnicity and tradition is unthreatened. It follows the identical easy fact Padma Lakshmi shared when requested “how [she holds] on to [her] culture in this country” and replied, “That’s easy — I live it every day.” The numerous pronunciations of my title —and by extension, my identities — belong to me. They are all legitimate and sacred to the areas I occupy.