The author, adopted from Bulgaria at age 5, recounts the ongoing struggle to correct the Americanized pronunciation of her name. Despite attempts to adapt, including a high school name tag with an accent, she reflects on the importance of her name as a core part of her identity. Family members, including her brother, express desire to pronounce it correctly, highlighting a shared journey in understanding and respecting her cultural roots. The author seeks recognition of her original name's significance after years of adaptation and mispronunciation.
I realized I preferred to be called by my name as it was intended. It took a few years before I was able to approach my family with a request.
My brother sat across from me, sounding out the first syllable. 'It's a hard 'I',' I reminded him, 'not an 'A'.'
I'm going to get it,' my brother said. 'Please just know that I want to say it right.' My heart swelled with hope.
For over half of my life, we've been having the same conversation about pronunciation, revealing the depth of my struggle for identity.
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