I Changed My Name Four Times

And how that affected my life

“Why have you changed your name so many times?” asked the lady at the Visa office, eyeing me with suspicion. This was my third name change. I would change it yet again in the near future.

Being at a particularly vulnerable phase of my life, I was quick to the touch. So, my retort was punchy. “Because life keeps changing on me.” I got the travel visa I was after that day. But the incident stuck with me and made me think about the reasons and repercussions of so many name changes.

My father gave me a unique name at birth. It was a Sanskrit word that was uncommon for a girl in the India of the eighties. Some got it and praised my father’s ingenuity. Many mispronounced it. Others laughed at it, getting it confused with a homonym with a hackneyed meaning. To sum it up, it caused me grief at school. Had I not been an A+ student, I might have been bullied about it too! But, the social clime I grew up in, being good in studies, put an invincible halo around me. I was beyond bullying. I was the ‘bright kid.’

Funnily enough, my Sanskrit name meant radiance or ‘a glow of light.’ Did my father know I was going to be a bright spark? Or maybe he aspired to my becoming one. Either way, if our names shape us, it certainly worked for me. I learned to appreciate my unique name as I went through school and university and never found a namesake.

After getting married, my surname changed. I was also migrating to NZ and was advised to change my passport to my married name to avoid confusion. That was the first shock to my identity. I disliked my married surname. It didn’t go with my beautiful Sanskrit name, was also difficult to pronounce and turned my full name into a real jawbreaker.

My work colleagues in NZ tried their best to say my name correctly. They just couldn’t. English doesn’t have the soft labials needed to say my name right. I knew this and stopped trying to correct them after the first few months.

It became routine for me to repeat my name three or four times before someone attempted to say it. It embarrassed me to inflict such pain on the friendly and welcoming Kiwis I lived amongst. Many of the Asian immigrants I knew adopted an English name. Some Indians abbreviated their names to English-sounding ones. ‘Sunita’ became Sue, ‘Nilesh’ became Neil, and so on.

No such escape route for me. My name was a two syllabic short word already!

Then, my life changed. I decided to end my very unhappy and dysfunctional marriage.

The first thing I wanted to do was to revert to my maiden name on all my legal documents after the divorce came through. And that’s when I had the idea of adopting a cosmopolitan, easily pronounceable first name. No straightforward decision. But, my parents were fully on board with it. After many expensive phone calls back and forth, we made a decision.

Rhea was born.

I love this name. It can be spelled Riya, Rhia, or Rea and is used in many parts of the world. Yet, it is still relatively uncommon. Of course, Rhea is also the name of the large South American ratite that resembles the ostrich. But, when I read about how unique these birds were, I considered that to be a bonus rather than a deterrent!

My name change certificate came in the mail on my 30th birthday! Couldn’t be a better birthday present for me. I think my lovely friends and colleagues heaved a sigh of relief as they quickly adapted to calling me, Rhea. My beautiful Sanskrit name was now my middle name and my Indian friends

still used that.

Somehow, my new name boosted my confidence and made me more outgoing. As an ambivert, I was not exactly a social butterfly. But, with the name conundrum out of the way, I introduced myself more freely to strangers and struck up conversations more easily. It made me realize how subconsciously painful it had been for me to hear my Sanskrit name inadvertently distorted for years.

So far, I had had three name changes. Now, I was equipped with a cosmopolitan-sounding first name and a moderately easy-to-pronounce Indian surname. I noticed something interesting. Suddenly, I was more integrated into NZ society. I faced questions like “Are you part Indian and part Maori?” Of course, I could also ascribe those questions to my light eyes and relatively light skin tone.

Before I go any further, let me be absolutely clear that this observation is by no means a rant against racism. This is merely an observation of us liking the familiar over the unfamiliar. It is a common human inclination. We are always trying to make sense of the world by ticking boxes.

Some years later, When I married my Kiwi husband, I held on to my maiden name until my daughter was born. Somehow having a surname different from my bundle of joy wasn’t acceptable to me. So my fourth and hopefully final name change happened.

The more I used my new, fully anglicised name, the more I saw its advantage. It opened more doors for me

The more I used my new, fully anglicized name, the more I saw its advantage. It opened more doors for me. It also stopped many from stereotyping me as an ‘Indian woman.’ I got to be a person who is not solely defined by her race or culture. I wrote a story about the perils of not being a stereotypical Indian.

To sum it up, what have I learned from changing my name so many times?

I would rather work with life than against it.

I think my biggest takeaway is that a name is one’s identity, but only up to a certain point. The face is a bigger one and the person that I am, the biggest drawcard. So, if a more pronounceable name makes life easier and better, it is worth considering. My name will not ultimately define who I am. That is totally up to me to carve out.

Would I change my name again? Yes, if life needed me to. So far, all my name changes have been a response to events in my life. I would rather work with life than against it.

Have you changed your name multiple times or have considered doing something similar? Let me know in the comments. Would love to hear from all my readers.

“To name oneself is the first act of both the poet and the revolutionary.”

— Erica Jong.

Thank you for reading my story. I wrote this story for Coffee Times, a publication focusing on building a helpful writers and readers community. If you are not a part of Coffee Times yet, I would strongly recommend you to. Read on to see why.

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