Should I change my “Ethnic“ name to an “American“ one?
Story and Art by Thuy Ngo

I chose to keep my father's name when my mother remarried.   I chose to keep my given Vietnamese name when everyone was changing theirs to Cathy or Jennifer. Mine is Thuy. My name is that one loyalty to my father and my heritage as a Vietnamese woman.   Really, what else do I really have to show that I am Vietnamese?

On my mom's side, five out of the seven women in my family adopted American names, like Jasmine or Karen. In school, I would see girls named Linda, Anne or Susie that I know weren't called that by their mothers. I respect their decision to make their names into something more easy to pronounce and understand. A name is an important thing, and being able to create your own is powerful. It means you can choose your own identity compared to what your parents chose for you.

Unlike many other Asians, I was not teased when was I growing up because of my name. This was because I was raised in San Jose, where minorities are the majority.   There are more “Bao's” and “Jose's” than “Bill's” or “Jane's.” I grew up learning Vietnamese at home and English at school. We all spoke in English to each other at school although our classes were filled mainly with Vietnamese students. The irony of our dual language identity is that if any of us spoke Vietnamese at school, we were labeled for it -- a notorious FOB (Fresh of the Boat).

My mother made great attempts to preserve our home language, Vietnamese, by pretending she did not understand us when we spoke English to her. But because of school,   I eventually grew a very American accent to my Vietnamese, having a lot of assimilation to its speaking and slurring.   As years went by, even though our schools were filled with Vietnamese students, I had to Americanize my name for the teachers in order for them to pronounce it. Instead of applying the nuances to my name, they would say it flat as Twee No (for Thuy Ngo). I'd usually come up with a story for them to remember it. I would tell them to remember my name by remembing the last part of the Bingo song, N-G-O instead of B-I-N-G-O. (Clap, Clap, N-G-O, Clap , Clap, N-G-O, and Thuy Ngo was her name –O.) When you think about it, it's kind of sad to have to go through all of that trouble for a teacher just to remember a name. For my first name, they would come up with all sorts of ways to say it, except for the way I wanted them to say it. “Thuai”,“They”, “Tai”, and “Thew” I think were most popular. My name is supposed to be sounded out as “Tuwee Ngo” To pronounce it you would have to raise the pitch on “Thuy” and bring forth the Ng sound from the back of your throat    and then say “o” to produce “Thuy Ngo.”   It gets difficult to explain, so after a while I sort of gave up.

I guiltily admit after all the frustrations of trying to help people through my name, that I have thought of changing it. But for me I wanted an exotic American name, something like “Gwen,” “Florence” or “Serenity.” At the time, I wanted to change it to fit in or be special. The irony is that even though my name sounds unique to non Vietnamese, it is actually a very common Vietnamese name. It is the Vietnamese equivalent to Jane. One year I I even met a guy with my exact name, and I thought   only every other Vietnamese girl had this name. I guess I was wrong.  

I guess you could say in that sense, I have come midway with both sides of being American and Vietnamese because I still keep my name, but it has an American aspect to it, meaning its pronunciation. I realized that the act of coming up with an American pronunciation to my name is a right of passage with becoming Asian American. Now its pronounced “Twee   No.” –Two syllables. Easy.

Having a Vietnamese name with my American sound leaves me susceptible to both stereotypes.   With some Asians I am a twinkie(yellow on the outside and white on the inside), white washed,   not Asian enough to seem like a convincing Vietnamese, when they hear me say me name. But to other Vietnamese folks who have completely taken on their American identity, keeping my ethnic name implies the opposite, that there is a good chance I am a gook, a chink,   an FOB.

In the end I am keeping my name because I shouldn't have to prove anything to anyone. Plus, people have to pay money to change their birth certificate.

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