“Sh-roo-th-ee?”
“Actually, it’s Shr-uu-th-ee”
“Oh, so Sh-ruh-th-ee?”
“Yeah… sure”
I’m not going to lie… this was about 70 percent of what my orientation week experience was like. Even a full year later, I remember how irritated I was all week about having the same conversation over and over again. I even wished I had an easier name just for simplicity’s sake. Having a name that’s tough to pronounce is not news to me. In fourth grade, I had a math teacher who just skipped me on roll call because he didn’t even want to try. In sixth grade, I had a teacher who shamelessly referred to me as “S-girl.” This may sound horrible, but I don’t blame anyone for having a hard time with my name. I’m not sure that all the sounds even exist in the English language, but as a bare minimum, you should at least make an effort.
Even though I’ve had a few cumbersome, annoying experiences with my name, I hadn’t really thought much about the significance of my name experience. My parents chose Shruti and I’m an adaptable young millennial so I went with it. Growing up, I had lots of nicknames, which doubled as terms of endearment, such as “Shru” and “Shruth.” On a few rare occasions, when I tell someone that they don’t have to pronounce it perfectly or that I don’t really care what exactly what they call me, I’ve been told that I should “own” my name since it is a part of my identity.
Up until now, I have been fairly ambivalent about the name issue. I figured that names are essentially logistical tags for people. You use my name so I know that you’re talking about me and not some other kid. Unlike produce or retail items, people don’t get numerical product or identification tags. It would be pretty weird if a professor was giving a lecture on game theory and said “Hey, 8R6EB, what would you do?”
But what happens when we choose a name different than the ones our parents gave us? For example, Bobby Jindal the republican Governor of Louisiana and current presidential candidate, is often criticized for changing his name from Piyush to Bobby. Nikki Hayley, Republican Governor of South Carolina, has faced similar criticism for changing her name from Nimrata to Nikki.
For the most part, I’ve felt like people were just giving them a hard time. What are they supposed to do? Something tells me that Piyush and Nimrata are a lot less appealing to voters than Bobby and Nikki. But now that I’ve thought about it a little, I’m a little surprised that I’ve been so apathetic about the reality that Piyush doesn’t really have a chance even though Bobby does. Before, I thought that the criticism of changing your name wasn’t the equivalent of abandoning an entire culture or identity. But when do we cross the line of choosing a different name and being embarrassed of who we are?
I remember being shocked and uncomfortable when seeing Governor Jindal’s recent tweet that “Immigration without assimilation is invasion #GOPdebate.” This is unbelievably insulting to Americans everywhere. A distinct mix of cultural and ethnic experiences is the foundation of what it means to be American and assimilation is the destruction of that distinct identity.
Jindal’s tweet suggests a deep level of discomfort for who he is, which extends a lot further than just his name. Unfortunately for Bobby, nobody cares about what he says because he is shockingly irrelevant in the current election. Still, the idea that being an immigrant who doesn’t assimilate is somehow an invasion is fundamentally troubling. Especially coming from the child of immigrants.
Watching Indian-Americans navigate the political sphere has made me wonder if giving up their original names is more than just a trivial matter of convenience. Even though we don’t choose our names, maybe even because we don’t choose them, names carry cultural value. They can serve as a vessel for our original identities and cultures.
I think there is a difference between telling your Starbucks barista to call you by a nickname and changing your name. Maybe names are more than just tags; they’re representations of our identity, culture and background. Everyone develops their own attitude towards this. And honestly, it’s probably not a huge deal. But if you feel like your name represents your identity in some way, that not using your name is somehow forfeiting your original culture, then hang in there. I know I’ll hold on to Shruti a little tighter.
Correction: An earlier version of this column stated that Hayley is governor of Louisiana. The Chronicle regrets the error.
Shruti Rao is a Trinity sophomore. Her column runs on alternate Tuesdays.
Get The Chronicle straight to your inbox
Signup for our weekly newsletter. Cancel at any time.