A moment that changed me: for the first time in my life, a stranger pronounced my name correctly | Health & wellbeing

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On the day of my Hindu baptism ceremony, I had five names, but my first name was Priti, a name that shaped me.

Like most kids with “unconventional” names, I dreaded the first day of every school year. I squirmed in my chair as my new teacher went through the class register, and my stomach twisted when they tried to pronounce my full name: Priti Ubhayakar. I’d be sitting there thinking, “If the first name doesn’t get you, the last name will.” »

In my haste to get it over with, I interrupted the professor while he struggled – in an attempt to save everyone from embarrassment. In elementary school, most teachers and friends just called me “pretty.”

I was so ashamed of my name that I never thought to correct it. I hated it, especially because I was teased. “Pretty? You’re not very pretty. Rather ugly, I’d say.”

Priti with her brother Kiran, at primary school in 1986. Photography: Courtesy of Priti Ubhayakar

The word “pretty” followed me everywhere until we moved from the UK to the US in the mid-90s. There, things got even more complicated. When people asked me my name, I never knew what to say. If I said “pretty” in my English accent, they would try to imitate it, repeating it to me in my accent. If I said “pretty” with an American accent, it sounded even worse.

I shook when I walked into a room full of new people. Knowing I would have to show up, I wanted the ground to swallow me up. Over time, however, I developed a strategy: I would stay quiet and let my American friends do the introductions for me. It worked wonderfully.

The problem followed me throughout college, every time I ordered from Starbucks and even corporate America. Over the years I have been variously called ‘Perdy’, ‘Petri’ and ‘Prit the Brit’ (the latter of which at least made me laugh).

I thought I would be stuck with this problem for the rest of my life, but something remarkable happened. In 2004, after traveling the United States and Europe, I found a job in Mumbai, India. On my first day, I walked into the office and, with my usual trepidation, stuck out my hand to introduce myself.

My boss shook my hand in welcome and said, “Hey, Priti. » She pronounced it perfectly, as it should be said: “Pree-thi”. I did a double take. I was fully prepared to undergo my usual dance of nerves, and suddenly I didn’t have to.

From that moment on, everywhere I turned in India, I would hear my name pronounced the same way my family had pronounced it my entire life. My name rolled off my tongue while I was making reservations at restaurants. I casually exchanged names with our local merchant, always eager to speak directly to customers.

The sound of my own name was music to my ears. I let it resonate around me, providing a sense of comfort I hadn’t realized I was missing.

During my time in India, I was surrounded by people who gave my name the respect I had never given it myself. I didn’t have to be ashamed of the name my parents had given me with so much affection. I was able to let go of the previously unshakeable feeling that something was wrong with my name – and, in turn, that something was wrong with me.

My name used to be a symbol of all the distorted feelings I had about being Indian and growing up in England and then living in the United States. A year and a half later, I left India and returned to the United States, but my experiences in Mumbai had hardened me. I had new confidence when it came to introducing myself with the correct pronunciation.

Even though it’s been over 20 years since I last set foot in the Mumbai office, this little exchange with my boss made me stronger in a way I didn’t expect. Now I make references to my Indian heritage that feel natural and meaningful to me. I let people into my life without hiding behind the insecurities I once had. I also do my best to pronounce other people’s names correctly, even if it takes a few tries.

Now, when I walk into a room, I no longer look for others to introduce me. I hold out my hand and say, “Hi, my name is Priti. » I now know that there is something about hearing and saying your own name out loud that can transform your self-esteem.

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