hli6855
Sep 25, 2022
Scholarship / Names can determine one's destiny; the context in which you have grown up, formed your aspiration [2]
Do you believe names can determine one's destiny? We don't choose our names, but they carry more meaning than we think. Every conversation starts with, "What's your name?" An ideal name for me would be synonymous with uniqueness, but a name that is perhaps too unique can be deemed peculiar.
My first name is unique in a way that it seems completely foreign to most, but is not even close to a typical American name. Out of 5,163 commonly used names, my name belongs to none of the figures due to its peculiar spelling and ethnic sounding.
The first gift that my parents bestowed me at birth was my first name, composed of two separate Chinese characters: "Hong" and "Qiu". They were carefully selected by my parents from the Classics of Poetry, an ancient Chinese poetry collection of romance and love. The first character means 'magnificent' that expresses my parents' ardent hope for me to have a bright future. The second character indicates the season in which I was born- Autumn. The combination of two characters formed my personal identifier that embodies the best wishes and expectation of me from my parents, yet I almost lost the most significant gift I had ever received.
When I immigrated to the United States, my name followed me, but in a different way. The beautiful Chinese poetry translating to English syllables caused the meaning behind my name to get lost in this new country. My name was supposed to be a loving gift from my parents, but instead it became a barrier that separated me from society. During my freshman year in high school, my English teacher called me Hong instead of Hong Qiu because there's a space between my two first names, which made it seem like Qiu is my middle name. All of the teachers that I met during ninth grade, except ones who spoke Chinese and my English teacher, all had trouble pronouncing my name. My name became a source of unease, and I felt insecure when teachers paused before attempting to pronounce my name off the roster. I was afraid to speak up because I had internalized other's difficulties in pronouncing my name as my own fault; I grappled with a myriad of complex and ambiguous emotions: embarrassment, loneliness and perplexity. The painful dilemma I found myself in was with assimilation. I asked myself two questions, "Should I anglicize my name to make my life easier, or should I keep my name as a way to preserve my cultural identity?"
I started self reflecting, then I turned to debating with myself. Pondering over one of the most difficult decisions in my life, I decided to keep my name. I tried to find a solution that can help them better pronounce and remember my name- using an example to explain how to pronounce it: "Hong as 'Hong Kong' and Qiu as 'chill'." After telling teachers the correct pronunciation of my name, all of them made efforts to say my name properly. Hearing my name pronounced correctly is a reaffirmation of my identity and celebration of who I am. A message reached deeply to my heart: I want to help students who face the same issue as me. I spoke with students who came from different backgrounds about their experiences, and I advised them to be honest and direct about how they want to be called by their teachers. The importance of pronunciation goes beyond any background or culture because the simplicity we see in a name is merely glazing over the surface of an entire story. My name is special to me not because of the reason it was chosen, but the story obscured behind, the only story that I can confess. A symbol of identity might not determine my future, ultimately it drives me to be a better person- one who has passions and self-value in mind.
Questbridge Personal ESSAY
Do you believe names can determine one's destiny? We don't choose our names, but they carry more meaning than we think. Every conversation starts with, "What's your name?" An ideal name for me would be synonymous with uniqueness, but a name that is perhaps too unique can be deemed peculiar.
My first name is unique in a way that it seems completely foreign to most, but is not even close to a typical American name. Out of 5,163 commonly used names, my name belongs to none of the figures due to its peculiar spelling and ethnic sounding.
The first gift that my parents bestowed me at birth was my first name, composed of two separate Chinese characters: "Hong" and "Qiu". They were carefully selected by my parents from the Classics of Poetry, an ancient Chinese poetry collection of romance and love. The first character means 'magnificent' that expresses my parents' ardent hope for me to have a bright future. The second character indicates the season in which I was born- Autumn. The combination of two characters formed my personal identifier that embodies the best wishes and expectation of me from my parents, yet I almost lost the most significant gift I had ever received.
When I immigrated to the United States, my name followed me, but in a different way. The beautiful Chinese poetry translating to English syllables caused the meaning behind my name to get lost in this new country. My name was supposed to be a loving gift from my parents, but instead it became a barrier that separated me from society. During my freshman year in high school, my English teacher called me Hong instead of Hong Qiu because there's a space between my two first names, which made it seem like Qiu is my middle name. All of the teachers that I met during ninth grade, except ones who spoke Chinese and my English teacher, all had trouble pronouncing my name. My name became a source of unease, and I felt insecure when teachers paused before attempting to pronounce my name off the roster. I was afraid to speak up because I had internalized other's difficulties in pronouncing my name as my own fault; I grappled with a myriad of complex and ambiguous emotions: embarrassment, loneliness and perplexity. The painful dilemma I found myself in was with assimilation. I asked myself two questions, "Should I anglicize my name to make my life easier, or should I keep my name as a way to preserve my cultural identity?"
I started self reflecting, then I turned to debating with myself. Pondering over one of the most difficult decisions in my life, I decided to keep my name. I tried to find a solution that can help them better pronounce and remember my name- using an example to explain how to pronounce it: "Hong as 'Hong Kong' and Qiu as 'chill'." After telling teachers the correct pronunciation of my name, all of them made efforts to say my name properly. Hearing my name pronounced correctly is a reaffirmation of my identity and celebration of who I am. A message reached deeply to my heart: I want to help students who face the same issue as me. I spoke with students who came from different backgrounds about their experiences, and I advised them to be honest and direct about how they want to be called by their teachers. The importance of pronunciation goes beyond any background or culture because the simplicity we see in a name is merely glazing over the surface of an entire story. My name is special to me not because of the reason it was chosen, but the story obscured behind, the only story that I can confess. A symbol of identity might not determine my future, ultimately it drives me to be a better person- one who has passions and self-value in mind.
