Hello, my name is Phuc, A. Bich, or A. Ho
At the end of 2009, the New York Times ran an article titled “Whitening the Resume” in their “Week in Review” section. In it, writer Michael Luo discusses a growing tendency among African Americans to “whiten” their job applications by removing elements with clear ethnic origins from their resumes, in hopes of improving chances at a callback or interview. For instance, one of the persons featured in this article was a woman named Tahani Tompkins. To make herself sound more accessible to potential employers, “instead of Tahani, a distinctively African-American sounding name, she began going by T.S. Tompkins in applications.”
As with any issue regarding assimilation, this is probably not a problem that African Americans alone face. The example of feeling the need to make more palatable one’s name particularly struck me as something that might seem frivolous but could actually be indicative of a real, understated problem. For Vietnamese, it’s true that as far as ethnic names go, we don’t have it too bad: we have names like “Kim” and “Van” that fit snuggly onto an American tongue, and we have names like “Nguyet” or “Quang” that might look a little tricky, but are still pretty manageable pronunciation-wise.
But then we have those names that can be too easily mispronounced for the worse. Names like Ho (which can sound a lot like an insult if not spoken in sets of three, in Pirate speak, or in the context of gardening), Bich (just one letter shy of a female dog) or Phuc (phonetically, looks a lot like the queen mother of all expletives).
I’m not trying to make fun of any of these names by drawing these comparisons, but I know having a name like “Dung” or “Dang” makes you vulnerable to cheap shots and bawdy jokes. For instance, in the hit 2007 summer comedy Superbad, there’s a scene where some sleezy cops are talking about the awesomeness of the name “McClovin.” On the topic of names, one officer chimes in, “I once met man-lady who was legally named ‘Phuc’”—except this officer pronounces “Phuc” the c-k preceded by f-u way. His partner in jokes then goes, “Yeah, I think he was Vietnamese because of the ‘ph.’” I’ll admit it was a well-executed joke, but it’s an example of how Vietnamese names can be easily become the butt of a joke.
So what to do if you have a name that is sure to inspire a slew of puerile insults at least up through fifth, maybe sixth grade? Change it? This actually seems to be the route that many Vietnamese are taking, not just those born with Phuc-Bich-Ho names. There’s nothing wrong with changing one’s name per se, because changing a name is always a personal decision. You might go from “Ngoc” to “Natalie” just because you think the latter sounds better, or you might go from “Phuoc” to “Frank” because it’s easier to introduce yourself to a potential business associate that way.
However, it’s the extent to which these name changes are happening that makes me ponder they’re necessity. I know a lot of people who’ve gone their whole lives with a very Vietnamese name with no problem, and then over night, they become Carols, Johns, or Keiths. I wonder what makes these people want to go through the trouble of paperwork and reintroducing themselves to everyone they know for the sake of a new name. Do so many of us really all hate the way our Vietnamese names sound so much that we have to change? Or are we all doing this to fit in to the mainstream society better? If it’s the latter, then is it really so necessary to change something as basic as your name for the sake of assimilation?
Personally, I think not. I used to hate my name (Anh) because it’s so Vietnamese, and people were always pronouncing it in funky ways. But these days it doesn’t matter so much anymore. I realized that if people respect you as a person, they’ll learn to pronounce your name the way you want it. And if a person can’t even do that much for you, is he or she really even worth being around?
So Phucs, Bichs, and Dungs of the world—relish your names, and others will come to respect it too. There’s a special meaning behind all Vietnamese names—just see all the responses OneVietnam got when we asked our Facebook fans about their Vietnamese names on April 12 if you want to know what I mean. And, maybe Hong will never be as popular as Holly, or Minh as popular as Mindy, but who gives a hoot? Vietnamese names are fine the way they are.
I know a lot of people never encounter the dilemma I’ve mentioned because your parents gave you American names at birth, but would you ever consider giving your own children Vietnamese names? Would you ever forego the American-first-name-Vietnamese-middle-name pattern a lot of people have adopted? Or, if you’ve changed your name, why did you decide to do so?
Anh Ton is a recent college graduate. Please contact her at anh[dot]ton[at]onevietnam[dot]org for questions, tips, and job offerings (!!!). Complaints and criticism are also welcomed and will be cordially replied to, but probably with a little less enthusiasm.
Pingback: What's in a Vietnamese name? The story of a life yet lived. Or, how to piss off your local barista.