Updated: May 27, 2020
Originally Published: Sep. 26, 2014
I go by Alex. A straightforward name, isn’t it? But you wouldn’t believe how often people are taken aback when I clarify that I’m not named Jon, Juan, or any other variant you might imagine. It’s almost amusing how people struggle to accept that my name is simply Alex.
I get it, though. I have a beard—sure, that complicates things a bit. But when people see me, their brains seem to short-circuit. It’s like they can’t reconcile my appearance with my name. Somehow, they decide that a guy like me must have an “ethnic” name—anything but Alex. Maybe they think: “No way this dude is named Alex; it must be something more exotic.”
Then comes the inevitable follow-up question: “How do you spell that?” I often want to reply, “Do you really think it’s spelled any other way?” But I just spell it out patiently. And it doesn’t stop there. “Oh, cool! But that’s not your real name, right?” Yes, in fact, it is.
My parents, immigrants from Egypt, thought they were doing something smart. They wanted to help me blend in seamlessly in a new country. They’d seen others face challenges because of their names, like my friend Zain, whose name was often mispronounced and misunderstood. Imagine being in second grade with a name that’s consistently a source of confusion.
My parents wanted better for me. They envisioned me thriving in America, and they believed a more familiar name would help me avoid the teasing that can come from having a name that stands out. Growing up, my dad would tell me I could be president one day. I’d laugh, but deep down, I understood he wanted me to feel as American as possible.
I like to imagine the conversation that led to my naming: my dad, deep in dreamland, sees me taking the oath of office. Suddenly, he jolts awake, shouting, “Alex! We must name him Alex!” In their quest to protect me, they might have inadvertently put me in a position where my name leads to constant questioning.
It’s not just me, either. My two brothers have names that don’t raise eyebrows. My wife, Yasmin, doesn’t attract the same scrutiny either. Maybe it’s because they don’t look as “different” as I do.
So why does it matter? Ultimately, your name doesn’t define your worth or capabilities. But it does shape how others perceive you. Some days, I wonder if I should adopt a name that aligns more closely with expectations. After all, could I really ever become president with a name like Khalid or Rashid?
If you’re considering what to name your child, remember this: a name is more than just a label; it can affect how your child is seen in the world. If you’re looking for ways to navigate parenthood and family planning, check out this resource on home insemination kits, which offers essential information for aspiring parents. For those interested in fertility and pregnancy, the Cleveland Clinic’s podcast is an excellent resource.
In summary, naming your child is one of the first significant choices you’ll make as a parent, and it can have lasting impacts on their identity and experiences. While a name may seem like a simple decision, it can shape your child’s journey in ways you might not realize at first.
Keyphrase: immigrant parents naming their child
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