What's in a Name?

I don’t know my own name. I can’t pronounce the damn thing correctly. Twenty-two years old and my name sounds strange off my tongue.

Krystal Banzon.

CHRIS-tul BAND-zahn in the states.

Krrris-TAHL BAAN-SOHN in the Philippines.

So I end up mumbling it incoherently when people ask, which requires them to ask me again because they can’t hear or understand me. So I repeat it louder, my lips clumsily tripping over syllables that have belonged to me my whole life, my eyes shifting, embarrassed that I don’t know my own name. Humiliated that I can’t correctly pronounce the ethnic tones that formulate my Visayan last name, the letters that connect me to my father’s heritage.

“KRRRISTAHL BAANSOHN!! Oh, very formal!” people exclaim.

“Krystal” here apparently doesn’t have the same suburban cheerleader connotations it has in the States.

I’ve realized that a similar narrative exists with people who grew up in more than one culture, that some of my own friends have had to resign themselves to be renamed a similar, but simpler nickname for the comfort and ease of the dominant culture, or have had to fight to get their name pronounced correctly, rolled-R’s,long-A’s and all. And then there are the ones like myself, who mumble their birth name all throughout their lives, for some reason never asking their parents for the correct pronunciation, and muttering it inconsistently for years before finally settling on an mess of vowels that is easy to say, but difficult to claim.

Banzon. BAANzon. BanZON. BanSON. BENson. BenZON. BANDzon.

a predicament
of hybridity
of imperialist hegemony
a speech impediment

culturally,

sneakily,

imposed

like bank repos
taken and resold.

it’s the therapy of society
to help you fix
that confusing ethnic

lilt

to train
your brain
to enunciate

PRO-NONE-SEE-ate

For the convenience of the bank men
The understanding of white friends
To avoid bureaucratic dead ends
And prevent corporate interview
career-killing trends

Make it effortless.

No distress

No questions

No shame(?)

in that mutter
stutter
slur
that is Your Name