What's In a Name? - A Reflection by Aisha Mahal

“Don’t worry about the pronunciation, no one gets it right!” I catch myself repeating this worn-out line every time I introduce myself to someone new. My next sentence will likely go down the route of giving several examples of the strange ways people have pronounced ‘Aisha’. This will likely get a laugh. Some harmless banter to prevent people from feeling awkward when they pronounce my name incorrectly for the fourth time.

Except its not harmless banter. Allowing people to mispronounce my name and making a joke out of them doing so is a racist micro-aggression. How have I reached a point where I wilfully let people call me all sorts of wrong variations of my own name? A name which I am proud of and which carries a lot of meaning.

I do have to point out a trend. It is largely white, English-speaking people who struggle with my name. It is also white, English-speakers who I am least likely to correct. I think this is due to my own discomfort in pointing out their mistake, especially when it takes multiple corrections for them to listen and change their pronunciation.

If I look back to my school years, several teachers consistently mispronounced my name despite having known me for five years of education. I had friends ask me many times why I did not correct them. My responses would include “I don’t care that much anyway”, “I’ve tried correcting them but they say it wrong anyway” or “I really can’t be bothered”. I brushed it off out of discomfort and used humour to placate the discomfort of those around me.

I wish I had been louder and more confident in asserting how my name is pronounced. I also wish this wasn’t something I have to assert in the first place. Don’t get me wrong – I am not offended when people say it wrong the first time. But, when they still say it wrong after I have told them how it is pronounced, that is where the issue lies. I have many white friends and teachers with ‘difficult’ names, such as Iona, Niamh, and Siobhan. Whilst I cannot generalize, I do notice that they only have to explain the pronunciation of their name once and people pay attention. Meanwhile, I have to repeatedly correct people – a process which leaves me feeling out of place and tired.

Mispronunciations aside, having a name which is not ‘white’ also has unwelcome political connotations.

In the year before I left for university, I remember one car journey with my mum. I cannot remember how we strayed onto the topic of my name. Aisha is a recognizably Muslim name, especially when combined with my surname ‘Mahal’. In our conversation, we discussed the political consequences of a Muslim-sounding name in the political climate of Brexit, Trump, and the rise of right-wing nationalism. Although not explicit, we both knew that there is some danger to having the name ‘Aisha’, even though we are not a Muslim family. I have never experienced hate crime, in person, or online. However, there was the unsaid acceptance during that car journey that my name alone opened me up to the possibility of hate crime.

We also discussed employability. I doubt many teenagers with ‘white-sounding’ names have had a conversation with their mum about how their name might disadvantage them on a CV. A study by Fair Hire found that 1 in 5 female black, Asian and minority ethnic job-seekers had changed their name on their CV (out of a survey of 540). British citizens from ethnic minority backgrounds have to send, on average, 60% more job applications to get a positive response from employers than their white counterparts, according to researchers from Nuffield CSI.

My white mum knew this was the case. She opened my eyes to this reality. I still have the niggling fear that my CV will be cast-aside by a white employer due to the unconscious bias these studies illustrate.

This fear is not without personal justification. Just a few months after that conversation in the car, I took part in practice interviews with the local Rotary Club. If you don’t know, Rotary is a community-run volunteering organization. Our school’s employment team organized these practice interviews and I was sat in front of two elderly, white men. I remember being excited to impress them (I was very much a try-hard at school). Instead of impressing them, I was put through 30 minutes of being quizzed on the origin of my name. As soon as they found out my dad was Indian, they immediately assumed his status as an immigrant and spent the rest of the interview asking me about his career. I left feeling confused and a bit angry. The only thing I learned in that practice interview was that assumptions are going to be made about me and my history before I even step into a room.

Going back to that one car journey with my mum. The conclusion we reached that day: maybe I should think about changing my name before university. To avoid the possibility of hate crimes. To give myself a better chance in job-hunting. To prevent the unconscious racist biases which are so prevalent in society from harming my future.

I did not change my name. Rather, I took the more revolutionary route of becoming proud of it. I educated myself on its history and its meaning. I realized that its beautiful and unique, steeped in my heritage and culture. I am slowly becoming more confident and direct in correcting mispronunciations. I am trying to stop using humor to hide my annoyance.

Aisha translates to ‘alive and prosperous’ in Arabic. If I’ve learned anything in learning to like my name, it’s that I will not let micro-aggressions, unconscious biases, or the fear of hate crimes stop me from prospering.