by Atreyee Gupta
Named
I was once called Alice
because they could not
say my name.
It was too difficult
for their tongues,
which shaped pterodactyl,
ornithologist,
Worcestershire,
perfectly.
“How’d you pronounce this?” they repeated,
with that sickening grin.
“It’s not a word I’m used to.”
Which made me feel
I’d made a spelling error.
“I’m sorry,” I kept apologizing,
shrinking in wonderland
without ever drinking
The Potion.
I grew hungry for easier identities.
I grew angry at ma baba
for choosing me.
I grew envious of the Sonias, Ritas, Mayas,
whose parents were wise
beyond measure to
christen them
international stars.
No such blessing for me.
Everything I was
hung upon
my name.
I carried my shame
round my neck
awkwardly,
unable to exit the
rabbit hole.
I stumbled down
the tangled paths,
exchanging my name for
ones that fit.
I put on Emily for comfort.
I put on Monique for sophistication.
I put on Audrey for ease.
Each identity
slipped from me
whispering
“not yours,” “not yours,”
“not yours,”
until I had to
resume my own.
I was once named Alice
because they could not
say my name.
Yesterday a voice
in the painted garden
said “Oh, your name’s too difficult
for me.”
So, I had to become Alice
again.
About the artist: Eric Sorensen is a medical student and artist who loves painting, drawing, and photography. After college he studied painting at the San Francisco Art Institute. Image: Painting, acrylic on panel (2014), part of a series exploring synchronous color palettes and the geometry of flat shapes abutting clean boundaries. Find more of his work at ericsorensen.com.
Atreyee, I understand. I have been Bar for sixty-one years. It’s short for Barbara but everyone I’ve ever loved has called me Bar. I’ve spent my life spelling my name for people so they won’t call me Barb, a name I dislike as much as Barbara. People actually refuse to call me Bar sometimes, as though it’s their right to deny my name. It’s always infuriated me. Thank you for putting into words the self-consciousness I’ve felt. Could you write your name phonetically so I know I’m saying it correctly? It’s a beautiful name. I wonder how it could possibly morph into Alice. Bar Scott
Thank you Bar for your lovely comment. Phonetically my name is pronounced in English as At-tree.
Thank you Atreyee. I was saying it with three syllables, accent on the second.
At a singing workshop years ago, we were asked to sing our names to introduce ourselves to the group. When it was my turn I started to shake and could hardly do it. Afterwards, another singer saved me by saying that when she heard my name she thought of Bar Harbor, which she said was the most beautiful place in the world. Whenever I’m self conscious about my name I try to remember that. This could be a good idea for a children’s book…
Perhaps we all have these doubts about our name no matter what! After all it’s a part of our identity that we are given rather than something we create. A children’s book about it sounds like a fun idea!
I really enjoyed this. I can relate with no one being able to say my name. My grandmother’s middle name was Donald & her baby sister’s name was Etta so they combined the two and named me Don-etta. People still pronounce it wrong. I envied girls with regular names in school but now that I’m older I’ve learned to embrace being different. This is a lovely, touching piece of work.
Thank you for your kind praise and for the story of your name. I’m so happy you are able to embrace your unique name now. I often think about how much time I wasted trying to mold myself and my name into something I thought “everyone else” had. Hope this finds you safe and well.