My son is also named Bort
Names are so fucking arbitrary. I’ve had a lifelong struggle with mine. Sometimes my name feels no better than a random mashup of letters. Do people feel connected to their names? A sense of power or identity? What do I do when the name most of the world knows me by loses its power?
Susan. I have no idea where this name came from. My sister was named after a Beatles song and my brother was named after my dad. There’s no ancestral Susan in the family, no significance to the name. I know two things: My dad says he wanted to give me a “really German name” but was opposed, so I guess I missed out on being Dagmar in life. The other is that my name was supposedly chosen because it was easy for my mom to pronounce. Stares in lifetime of being called what sounds like Sue-John because of her accent
My name embarrassed me as a kid. It was a laughable “old lady” name before they were cool. I had no interesting or meaningful origin story. I was embarrassed also that my middle name was my Korean name, that I didn’t have a simple, easy Western name. “It’s so unique!” I remember a coworker telling me in Korea. I’ve come to embrace that as an adult but growing up I didn’t need another reminder of being othered.
Sus. There’s really no cool or meaningful origin story here either. It’s a nickname I picked up in high school after failing to introduce myself as Sue in the big new school. Sus felt cool and different and weird and I liked that. I’m not sure what Sus feels like anymore. It feels strange to me to keep using a name I associate so strongly with high school and a clique of friends no longer in my life. It’s not any more or less meaningful than any other name that’s been attached to me.
I’ve been frustrated generally with how activist and organizing spaces get siloed, which is a separate piece for a different time, but this also has me thinking of how I’m frustrated with how my identity is siloed. So many different people and groups know me by different names. Maybe the answer is to give you my full name. Because that whole complicated name is my heritage and history.
Right now though, I feel inclined to embrace my Korean name. Sunhee. A name I couldn't even spell for most of my childhood. When I taught in Korea and the kids found out I had a Korean name, they all insisted I sign their notebooks in Hangul. I hate how strange it feels to claim a name that's been mine since birth and I'll admit, a little strange to hear myself addressed that way. But it also feels good, like a wholeness is forming and it feels good to come out of the siloes.