Courtesy of the author
My mom told me that when her sister heard my name for the first time, she thought she'd never be able to get it right. But her husband promptly came up with a helpful metaphor — "Amita is a little bit more than a yard."
My mother is British, and my father is Indian, and their name criteria for my sisters and I included a pleasant meaning and Indian roots to match our last name.
Amita is a Sanskrit name that means "immeasurable" or "boundless." My British family pronounces it "ah-mee-tah," and my Indian family pronounces it "ah-mee-tha." I'm comfortable with either of those pronunciations, but many Americans pronounce it as "uh-mee-duh," which I really dislike.
I wish more people could use my uncle's meter expression to help them, but Americans pronounce their T's differently. Saying my name with the "duh" sound may not sound wrong to some, but I feel that it makes my name sound clunky and old-school.
There are names in many languages that sound similar to or are spelled the same as my name, which often trips people up. One is "Anita," which peaked in its U.S. popularity during the 50's and 60's. I've often wondered if people assume my name is a quirkier version of that, rather than a different name entirely, and therefore pronounce it similarly.
One year in middle school, I was up for a soloist award at a choir competition. It was very low stakes, but the awards ceremony took place in a large arena, and I was so excited about the prospect of having my name called there.
When they announced the award, it went to an "Anita Chattergee," who I assumed was me, but the butchering of my name put a damper on my big moment.
People don't usually botch my name completely, so I often felt it was easier to let people say it incorrectly.
In elementary school, I remember noticing that my teachers and classmates said my name differently than my family. One day after school, I went home and sulked because I didn't understand why everyone kept calling me "uh-mee-duh," and my mom encouraged me to correct people.
But I'd been letting it slide for so long that the whole school was saying it wrong, so as a kid, it felt like a lost cause.
At one job, my manager constantly called me "Amina," no matter how many times I corrected her. Eventually, all my coworkers started calling me the wrong name, too, so I had to do some damage control. I got through to most of them, but my manager never got it right, so I had to just start responding to "Amina."
When I complained to my parents about this, my dad scolded me for conceding and reminded me that he'd never let anyone say his name incorrectly. But in this case, correcting her was pointless.
Anyone with a unique name knows to be prepared for clarifying questions when making introductions. When I meet people, I introduce myself as "ah-mee-tah," and when they usually respond with "uh-mee-duh?" I've started saying, "no, ah-mee-tah, with a 'T.'"
Sometimes, people don't hear the difference, or even if they do, their accents just take over. But I'm at least making an effort.
It can be frustrating, but I'm grateful for my name. It's helped me learn to advocate for myself and be aware of whether I'm saying other's names correctly. I deeply love the sound, uniqueness, and meaning of my name, and I know my parents put a lot of time and energy into choosing it.
It's taught me that the people in my life who take the time to pronounce it right — and correct others — are the ones who matter most.
