If they’re smart enough to be doctors, they’re smart enough to learn to say your name correctly.
I don’t have a common typical English name. My name is unique to my culture. It’s always been difficult always being different, an outsider. Especially growing up in the US south. But that’s a different story.
There are two schools of thought on my name: “oh cool so exactly as it’s spelled” and “what in the actual fuck I don’t even know where to start.” The latter are always the loudest and most obnoxious.
First days of school were the worst growing up. I would usually keep track of where in the alphabet the teacher was on roll call and knew she was looking at my name when there was a long pause. I would fake a laugh, raise my hand, and tell them my name. Everyone else would laugh along. I hated it, I was so embarrassed. Why couldn’t I have been named Ashley or Catherine or Megan? Life would have been so much easier.
I grew up to embrace my name and love it. I love my culture, our history is awesome, and my name is badass. I’ve only met one other person with my name and she’s ten years younger than I am and lives in Canada. But my acceptance doesn’t mean everyone else has had the same epiphany about my name. I still get the same looks, well-intentioned but rude comments, and confused stares from all the Caroline’s, Katelyn’s, and Lauren’s.
Some days I own it with a bad ass “no it’s not hard, you’re being dramatic, it’s easy to say and really cool” attitude. Sometimes I have rhyming tricks that I personally HATE but understand it’s a necessary evil because some people have tiny minds and need the extra help. And then I throw in a little history lesson because damn, some people.
But some days I’m exhausted, and I can’t argue and stand up for myself. Some days I’m tired and defeated and I let it go, “I know, it’s hard, a lot of people have trouble. It’s okay.”
My resident caught me on one of those nights. I was on hour 14 of the work day, scrubbing in for yet another surgery. She didn’t keep asking my name because she couldn’t pronounce it, but because she genuinely couldn’t remember what it was because she was having a very similar kind of day.
No one has ever said anything like that to me before. I was too tired at the time to understand and appreciate what she said, but it’s been resonating with me ever since. She’s fucking right. If you’re comfortable speaking in medical jargon with our made-up sounding words, you can say my name. It’s not hard, it’s not my fault you can’t say it, and no, you can’t make up a nickname for me. ✋🏼
(via heyitsthatalmostdoctor)
