If you had to change your name, what would your new name be?

My name, according to my fellow Anglo Australians, is so incredibly difficult to pronounce, so complex and horrifyingly complicated, it needs changing. Apparently I have to Anglicise my name to make it ‘easier’ for the lazy tongues and marshmallow brains of Anglo Australians to pronounce.

Since my school days, when other kids would stand there looking at me befuddled when hearing my name, to fellow coworkers who loudly expressed that they will never be able to say my name, I have resisted the tide towards monocultural Anglicisation.

I have written previously about why it is important to pronounce foreign names correctly. My name is part and parcel of my identity. It forms the key to my background and ethnicity. It has only been complex and ‘difficult’ to those whose brain power could not even light a candle.

In a multicultural society such as Australia, we all must make the effort to understand each other. Polynesians, Hungarians, Lebanese, Indians, Chinese, Sri Lankans – all of us intermixing requires that we respect each other and learn each other’s names.

In a previous workplace of mine, I came across a particular hardware engineer called Eric. That is a good strong name, and there is nothing wrong with that. However, he was Chinese, I think from Hong Kong originally. One day, as we were talking, I asked him for his name. He told me ‘Eric’. I said no, what is your birth name. He said Puyi.

From that day onwards, I never called him ‘Eric’ ever again. He was Puyi.

Perhaps I should change my name to something more friendlier and romantic, in this day and age of social media and the internet. How about – the Avenging Flamethrower of Uzbekistan?

If you want me to change my name, I will on one condition. I will award you a trophy, to honour your commitment to a monocultural Australia. You will have the Cup to Unite the Nation Trophy, emblazoned with that acronym which accurately describes your position.

I completely understand why people decide to change their name. The birth name no longer reflects the person you are; Cassius Clay underwent a political and psychological awakening when he became Muhammad Ali. Malcolm Little wanted to repudiate the identity bequeathed to him by the slave owners of his ancestors; thus becoming Malcolm X.

In Australia, the social and cultural landscape is dominated by the majoritarian Anglo-Saxon identity. Let’s understand a particular point here; I am supposed to use the term Anglo-Celtic, because that description is more inclusive. It may be more inclusive, but it disguises an underlying deception. For decades the Irish Celtic component has had to confront discrimination and exclusion, fighting to find acceptance among the Anglo-Saxon Australo-British elite.

If you wish to use the term Anglo-Celtic, be my guest. But do not allow that usage to obscure the dark history of the exclusion of Irish Celtic identity in forming the notion of a British Isles.

People from non-English speaking background (NESB) nations have had to make their mark in every aspect of Australian life, and still have to prove their commitment to a unified Australian-ness. Becoming Australian does not mean abandoning your ethnic heritage. Our names are an important component of our individual identity and also a collective identity and culture.

There is another compelling reason why I wish to keep my current name. William Saroyan (1908 – 1981), American playwright of Armenian origin, wrote about the resilience of the Armenians throughout the generations. We have had to fight to preserve our identity, which involves our cultural heritage and our names. Despite tremendous hardships and appalling catastrophes, we have survived and flourished.

He said it best here:

I should like to see any power of the world destroy this race, this small tribe of unimportant people, whose history is ended, whose wars have all been fought and lost, whose structures have crumbled, whose literature is unread, whose music is unheard, whose prayers are no longer uttered. Go ahead, destroy this race. Let us say that it is again 1915. There is war in the world. Destroy Armenia. See if you can do it. Send them from their homes into the desert. Let them have neither bread nor water. Burn their houses and their churches. See if they will not live again. See if they will not laugh again. See if the race will not live again when two of them meet in a beer parlor, twenty years after, and laugh, and speak in their tongue. Go ahead, see if you can do anything about it. See if you can stop them from mocking the big ideas of the world, you sons of bitches, a couple of Armenians talking in the world, go ahead and try to destroy them.

No, I am not imputing genocidal intent in the hearts and minds of every Anglo Australian – though perhaps we should bear in mind what the indigenous peoples think about the genocidal frontier wars on this continent. I am pointing out that keeping my name in its current state is just one small part I can play in keeping the Armenian cultural heritage alive.