‘What’s in a name?’, Juliet asks.

It took my parents five days to name me after I was born. Until then, I was ‘baby girl’. Almost Hannah, but that was beaten out by a far less Western sounding name. Chiedza, pronounced as you read it:

Chi-ed-za.

It means ‘light’ in Shona, which seems fitting given that my father insists that I didn’t cry when I was born. Instead, I came out of the womb smiling. A joy I like to think was caused by my sudden freedom. Though, it could also have just been a grimace from passing gas, but joyous liberation sounds a lot better, doesn’t it?

As I sit here writing this, I am filled with questions. For, while I love my birth name, I do wonder if my parents, knowing that I was going to be raised in the UK,  considered the discrimination I would potentially face due to name’s origins. After all, name discrimination is a harsh reality that many of us face and it’s one I find myself only recently coming to terms with.

When I was at school I believed that the greatest hurdle I would face with my Zimbabwean name would be the mispronunciations of it. I’m sure many of my fellow Africans can relate; hearing all the exciting ways in which the Western tongue can distort your identity is a tiring and grating process.

I’ve heard it all, namely from my high school teachers, who I’m convinced held a secret contest in which the winner was crowned ‘The World’s Greatest Name Butcher’ and awarded a golden chalice filled with my frustrated tears.

‘Chee-dza’, one called me.

‘Che-dee-za’, said another.

My music teacher almost took the prize when she labelled me ‘Chi-at-dza’ after deciding that my name sounded Italian. However, her gold medal quickly turned to silver the day a geography teacher decided to call me ‘Chez-nee’ – which was just an outright disrespect.

If Julie Andrews could get millions of dribbling toddlers to sing supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, then surely, with a little bit of effort, my teachers should have been able to say my name with ease. But, unfortunately not.

If only, if only the mispronunciations had been the greatest hurdle. But alas not, for as I’ve learnt, it’s discrimination that stands as the real middle finger.

Name discrimination; it’s a form of prejudice where an individual is negatively discriminated against due to their name and stereotypes that are consciously or unconsciously associated with it. There are a range of biases  that can result in it: racial, gender, cultural, religious, class and age. Though, cultural is arguably the most common. And where do we see it most?

On job applications, of course.

A 2019 research study revealed that British citizens who originate from an ethnic minority will on average send out 60% more job applications than their White counterparts. It found that applicants from Western Europe and the United States were treated in the same manner as those of British origins. However, those with visible indicators that showed that they were from culturally distant minorities, such as Black Africans and those from the Middle East and North Africa, were regularly rejected. 

To add to that, it also found that employers were reluctant to interview applicants originating from Muslim-majority countries, regardless of whether their application openly revealed their religion or not.

Before applying for jobs, researchers assured that the fictitious candidates were on a level playing field by insuring that the applications had no significant differences. Thus, English language fluency, higher education and grades were similar across all submissions. The only distinguishable difference amongst them however, was their names.

In an article published by the BBC, it was reported that careers advisors will often recommend that candidates essentially ‘Whiten’ their CV by dropping ethnic names and activities that are stereotypically associated with minority ethnic groups. Furthermore, it notes that for some, success in their job applications nearly doubled after they changed their name.

In a bid to reduce unconscious or, as it may be, conscious bias from the recruitment process, leading companies and universities are being asked to remove candidate names from application forms. ‘Blind’ or anonymised hiring is a recruitment technique where all socio-demographic details about the candidate that may affect decision-making are removed. This not only includes their name, but their age, address and in some cases their education.

Job hunting aside, it’s a common practice for those who migrate to the UK to anglicise their names as a means of assimilation. Thus, either choosing to go by their more English-sounding middle name or adopting a new name altogether when in public. Though, many retain their traditional names when with their family or in their communities.

There are also those who change their names simply as a means of avoiding mispronunciations, for sometimes it is easier to go by a chosen alternative than it is to hear your name repeatedly butchered.

And then there are others for whom changing their name, especially when done for societal convenience as opposed to their own independent desire, feels like a negation of their sense of self, as if they were eradicating an important part of their identity.

Now I won’t lie, I relate to these some.

When you think about it, the UK is essentially telling the British Other to either strip away a fundamental piece of our identity and culture or struggle. Struggle getting a job, struggle with mispronunciations, struggle feeling acknowledged. But it shouldn’t be the case that our Other-ness makes us a little less important to consider or remember.

It shouldn’t be the case and yet, here we are.

Something worth remembering the next time someone tells you their name.

So yeah, name discrimination folks.

Since beginning this post, I decided to ask my mother if she or my father considered the discrimination I would potentially face due to my name. They didn’t. And you know what, I’m glad, because if they had my name might not be what it is today and that’d be an awful shame given that my name has always been my primary connection to my culture.

And who would I be without that?

‘What’s in a name?’ Juliet asks.

‘Power’, I reply. ‘So, call me by mine’.

That is, of course, unless you can’t say it. In which case, please refrain. Instead, you can address me by my title: Queen. I’ll accept Queen. *Sips Tea*