My name has always been important to me. The first time I remember being aware of its relevance was in kindergarten when a teacher mentioned my entire name and complimented my father on the choice. My name, an ode to my Ghanaian side with its beautiful royal meaning. I liked my name regardless of the many name-changing-on-Facebook phases I went through and having finally owned myself, I appreciate it better.
Unfortunately, with my passport country being one where mistakes are the order of the day and people really do not mind them or bother to correct them, I found myself with my first name shortened. I became Ama instead of Awurama simply because the man at the passport office could not be bothered to type four more letters. Half of my name, my royal title and essentially a part of my identity was taken off.
The first time this mistake bothered me was around the age of 6 when a flight attendant assigned to me, announced my name over the P.A. system as Ama Agyei. I did not realize that I was the one being called on until after several attempts with no one showing up, she added a botched version of my middle name. Needless to say, she was surprised as to why I did not answer on the previous attempts but even six-year-old me knew better than to say "well that's not my name."
In the following 12 years, I had to mention different names at different times. I was Awurama at home with family, close friends and in school but Ama on some official documents. I was never okay with it but because I did not have that many people calling me Ama, I was able to ignore it. Starting college changed that. Here was a place where people actually referred to me by my passport name and Lord, did I want to punch a wall whenever it was mentioned. Who was this Ama person and how did she fit into my life? My complaints to family and my parents did nothing to help the situation as they saw it as no big deal. After all, they were not the ones being called a name they were not.
Falling into myself and discovering my identity recently, made me realize that I hate the code-switching. I hate being something in one place and having to reserve who I truly am for certain places. It is far too confusing and even if it wasn't, its just not me.
Another factor that irked me was that regardless of how the mistake came to be, we cannot deny that Ama is easier for most people to pronounce than Awurama is. Whether the passport official knew it or not, making my name Ama was a form of anglicization, and removing the Ghanaian ethnicity from it. When ordering at Starbucks or making reservations, saying and spelling Ama was easier for people than saying Awurama. Every time I began to say Awurama, a glance at the barista looking at me with confusion resulted in me just saying A-m-a to simplify the situation and save us both the time we don't have.
However, thinking on it, does it have to be so? Why can I not just say Awurama and have the barista politely ask to have it spell? How much more time would that take? Why do we feel much more comfortable making numerous variations to our orders, all of which take time by the way, than pronouncing or spelling out our actual names?
When someone messes up your name or never bothers to learn the right way to say it, it’s disrespectful, and I know this because I feel disrespected every time someone calls me Ama. When, on the other hand, you take the time to get someone’s name right, you honor them. The professors who took the time to actually learn to pronounce and spell my name as Awurama are my favorites because their efforts signify their respect and genuine interest in my life.
I don't need to have to explain to anyone why the name I am giving them is different from what is on an official document. That Ama person is only present by virtue of a mistake and is in no way me. My name is Awurama, it means Lady born on a Saturday and is my royal title as well. People are just going to learn to have to show their respect in addressing me as I prefer because I am done with code-switching.
