For today, please call me Jennifer.

For many years, this has been an inside joke with my siblings, but you are all part of my extended family so I feel comfortable sharing it with you.

As a child, I dreaded situations that required introductions-first day of a new school year, meeting a new kid on the bus, speaking with adults, etc… You might have thought that I had an innate tendency towards bashfulness or an aversion to people, and you would have been wrong.

I just didn’t want to have to say my name. Yes, I was ashamed of my name. I used to watch the facial expressions of teachers who called roll and the grimace that came upon their faces when they approached my name. I would have preferred that he or she just ask me outright how to say it rather than listen to the ways my name was butchered. I never could figure out the ones who seemed irritated-as though I had colluded with my parents to make their lives more difficult.

My name is Nhung. Go ahead and give it a try.

If you speak more than one language, you’re infinitely ahead of the game and will probably come close. But I have heard it all-“hung,” “nung,” “ung,” “noong,” “win.” That last one is my favorite. On more than one occasion, I have been told, “I knew a Vietnamese person once, and they spelled their name exactly like yours, and it’s pronounced “win.” No, no it’s not, but I have had the other person debate me on it and say I’m wrong. I try to be good-natured about it all. I really do. But having my first-grade teacher call me “you” one too many times tried my patience. So I decided to make it easy on her and everyone else, and I just asked that everyone call me “young.” I used to dream of being called “Jennifer” though. I envied all the girls who could so casually say, “Hi, my name is Jennifer,” and not have any misunderstandings. I told myself that when I became a US citizen, I would forever change my legal name to something pronounceable.

For the most part, reinventing myself to “young” has avoided the awkward introductions. I preempt everyone now by introducing myself first in person or spelling it out phonetically by email. But there are still days when it causes me grief, such as today at work. I answered the phone and stated, “This is Young speaking. How can I help you?” Apparently, the caller took that in a negative way and asked whether I was calling her old. No, I wasn’t. It’s just my name.

Except that it isn’t. My name is Nhung-pronounced “ny-ong” with a long “o.” I don’t really know what happens to the “h” or the “u.” So for those of you who call me “Young,” don’t feel weird. I don’t hold it against you or think bad thoughts about you. I’ve perpetuated the error by introducing myself as “Young” for 30 years so I don’t imagine any of you are going to now call me by another name. It would be awkward. But…if you want to give it a try, that would be great, too!

I never did change my name. When that moment came to sign my legal name, I realized that I liked my given name because it’s unique, and when someone calls my name-correctly or even the butchered version-I know the person is referring to me. Here’s the most important thing to know.

Don’t get hung up on my name. I would hate for that to get in the way of our relationship.
If it’s a struggle…just call me Jennifer.**

**Unless you are my husband, relative or extremely close friend. Then, you have to call me by my REAL name.