At the start of every school year, my high school held a special assembly to honour seniors. Every senior was called up one by one by the principal to grab special red ties, meant to symbolize their maturity. In my last year, I was so excited for the assembly. But when it came to me, my name was mispronounced. An unsure giggle passed throughout the auditorium. I felt my cheeks get hot, and suddenly, I found myself holding back tears. While everybody else’s names were called, I stood in shame. I was utterly humiliated, but I was unsure why.
Everybody in that room knew what my name was. Why did a little slip-up matter so much? As it turns out, I had experienced something all too common—a microaggression, or a small, unconscious act of prejudice and racism. At the time, I did not know the term, but I did not need to read an academic article to know that that moment of pure mortification would stay with me. As Ratna Ghosh, a professor in the Faculty of Education at McGill, put it to me, “Because it’s not overtly racist, it has the ability to make a more important inroad into your psyche.”
Most people do not need to worry about how their names are pronounced—their names are common in the countries they live in. When I was four years old and had just immigrated to Canada from Iran—a place where my name was never an issue—I could not anticipate that it would turn out to be so challenging for those around me. But the chronic mispronunciation must have happened gradually, because by the time I realized that my name was constantly being said incorrectly, it had become a normal, even expected, occurrence.
My name became a constant reminder of my difference. Always at the top of attendance sheets, I watched new teachers mull over “Sepideh,” giving a sympathetic look to the class before attempting to string the letters together in a way that made sense to them. I developed ways of intervening: The moment a teacher picked up the attendance sheet, I would raise my hand immediately to tell them my name and state that I was present. Unfortunately, this kind of behaviour was less bravery and more a product of my embarrassment.
As it turned out, I wasn’t the only person who developed these kinds of strategies as a kid. Gialina Jiang, a second-year student at Carleton University, recalled how she used to pretend the botched versions of her name were accurate to get a laugh out of her peers.
“It makes me feel guilty and sad that I needed to [resort] to humour in an uncomfortable situation to get validation from white people, as opposed to being proud of who I am, and my culture and roots,” Jiang said.
These microaggressions usually start in schools, easily the most significant social institution for youth. Chronic mispronunciation of a name is extremely harmful, according to a study done at Santa Clara University. Consequences range from internalized racism within students to negative self-perception that inhibits development. One study conducted at the University of Alberta found that students from ethnic minority groups feel disrespected when their names are mispronounced. Mispronouncing somebody’s name, even by accident, is a surefire way of wearing down a person’s sense of identity, since it minimizes the heritage and richness that goes into a name.
