H Before the s: The Importance of a Name
by Mohsina yusuf
Growing up, I always knew when the teacher got to my name on the roster during the first day of school. It started with a blank stare, followed by 5-10 seconds of them trying to figure it out before the awkward silence finally ended with a “Moshina? I’m not sure I’m pronouncing this right.”
My name is Mohsina. Pronounced like mo-see-na and spelled M-O-H-S-I-N-A. The H is before the S. Mohsina is Arabic for “benevolent,” which is strangely fitting because up until recently, I was too scared to correct people in fear of looking anything less than kind.
In 9th grade, one of my teachers never said my first name during roll call. It was always “Yusuf,” because my last name was easier for him to pronounce. Finally, halfway through the semester, one of my classmates spoke up for me: “Her name is Mohsina.”
I remember the teacher looking at my classmate, clearly annoyed, before finally saying, “MOHSINA.” The teacher sounded like he was in pain but at least he finally said my first name. The next day the teacher went right back to only calling me by my last name and he did this for the rest of the semester. I was too scared to say anything.
Looking back, the whole situation was ironic. We weren’t allowed to address our teachers as anything other than “Mister” or “Miss.” If they had a PhD, we were reminded of how hard they worked for that degree every time we accidentally addressed them as anything other than “Doctor.” Calling me by my last name was acceptable, however, because my first name “Mohsina” was apparently too hard to say. I didn’t even get a courtesy attempt until somebody else called my teacher out. I was only 15 at the time and unaware of the fact that this dehumanizing experience was also one extended microaggression.
Sadly, though, this kind of behavior didn’t end with grade school; it’s continued my whole life. What’s especially hurtful is how often my name gets misspelled in emails because it’s right there on the screen. I ignore it the first time it gets spelled wrong, because maybe they were typing really fast; I myself have done that before. It only hurts my feelings when it continues, and my name is spelled wrong in every email afterwards. I realize then that it wasn’t an accident: once is a mistake, twice is something else.
I know what you’re thinking. “Why don’t you just correct people?” It sounds like a simple solution to a simple problem. Why don’t I just correct people? Because it’s actually not a simple problem—it’s a bigger one. There were times I corrected people, but they didn’t acknowledge it nor did they apologize. When it happens over and over again, and even people in positions of authority are continually mispronouncing your name, you start to blame your name. You don’t blame the people saying it wrong. You blame your parents for giving you such a difficult name.
My name is Mohsina. Pronounced like mo-see-na and spelled M-O-H-S-I-N-A. The H is before the S. Mohsina is Arabic for “benevolent,” which is strangely fitting because up until recently, I was too scared to correct people in fear of looking anything less than kind.
In 9th grade, one of my teachers never said my first name during roll call. It was always “Yusuf,” because my last name was easier for him to pronounce. Finally, halfway through the semester, one of my classmates spoke up for me: “Her name is Mohsina.”
I remember the teacher looking at my classmate, clearly annoyed, before finally saying, “MOHSINA.” The teacher sounded like he was in pain but at least he finally said my first name. The next day the teacher went right back to only calling me by my last name and he did this for the rest of the semester. I was too scared to say anything.
Looking back, the whole situation was ironic. We weren’t allowed to address our teachers as anything other than “Mister” or “Miss.” If they had a PhD, we were reminded of how hard they worked for that degree every time we accidentally addressed them as anything other than “Doctor.” Calling me by my last name was acceptable, however, because my first name “Mohsina” was apparently too hard to say. I didn’t even get a courtesy attempt until somebody else called my teacher out. I was only 15 at the time and unaware of the fact that this dehumanizing experience was also one extended microaggression.
Sadly, though, this kind of behavior didn’t end with grade school; it’s continued my whole life. What’s especially hurtful is how often my name gets misspelled in emails because it’s right there on the screen. I ignore it the first time it gets spelled wrong, because maybe they were typing really fast; I myself have done that before. It only hurts my feelings when it continues, and my name is spelled wrong in every email afterwards. I realize then that it wasn’t an accident: once is a mistake, twice is something else.
I know what you’re thinking. “Why don’t you just correct people?” It sounds like a simple solution to a simple problem. Why don’t I just correct people? Because it’s actually not a simple problem—it’s a bigger one. There were times I corrected people, but they didn’t acknowledge it nor did they apologize. When it happens over and over again, and even people in positions of authority are continually mispronouncing your name, you start to blame your name. You don’t blame the people saying it wrong. You blame your parents for giving you such a difficult name.
I went through different phases with the acceptance of my own name. I’d let “Moshina” slide or I'd tell people to call me Mo/Moh (spelling at the user’s discretion). Eventually, it got weird compromising my name to make other people’s lives easier. So I stopped disrespecting myself and started correcting people. I no longer say, “but you can call me Mo(h),” and instead, I let people decide for themselves if they feel comfortable enough with me to shorten it. My name is unique, and it’s what makes me, me. I should be proud to have it, even if I’ll never find it on a keychain.
My supervisor once shared that it was my unique name that grabbed her attention when I applied for this position. It changed my whole perspective because I spent nearly my whole life wishing I had a different name only to find out it’s what helped me get the best job I’ve ever held. Emory is already diverse: it doesn’t need me to cross off an item on the diversity checklist. Here at Emory, my name is what made my resume stand out.
The best part about working here is that I never feel alone. Everywhere I look, I see someone who looks just like me. There are people who’ve been on similar journeys and faced the same struggles. Emory is one of the most diverse employers in the state that not only accepts each of us but also celebrates us. Working here has made me feel comfortable with my own name and gave me the courage to speak up when it gets butchered without the fear of sounding anything less than kind.
My supervisor once shared that it was my unique name that grabbed her attention when I applied for this position. It changed my whole perspective because I spent nearly my whole life wishing I had a different name only to find out it’s what helped me get the best job I’ve ever held. Emory is already diverse: it doesn’t need me to cross off an item on the diversity checklist. Here at Emory, my name is what made my resume stand out.
The best part about working here is that I never feel alone. Everywhere I look, I see someone who looks just like me. There are people who’ve been on similar journeys and faced the same struggles. Emory is one of the most diverse employers in the state that not only accepts each of us but also celebrates us. Working here has made me feel comfortable with my own name and gave me the courage to speak up when it gets butchered without the fear of sounding anything less than kind.
Useful Resources on Name Etiquette
1. Ruchika Tulshyan, If You Don’t Know How to Say Someone’s Name, Just Ask, Harvard Business Review, at https://hbr.org/2020/01/if-you-dont-know-how-to-say-someones-name-just-ask
2. Ranjana Srinivasan, Understanding Name-Based Microaggressions: An Interview with Ranjana Srinivasan, PhD, Psychology Today, at https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/underdog-psychology/201909/understanding-name-based-microaggressions
3. Clare McLaughlin, The Lasting Impact of Mispronouncing Students’ Names, NEA Today, at http://neatoday.org/2016/09/01/pronouncing-students-names/
4. Andrew Limbong, What Is a Microaggression? And What to Do if You Experience One, NPR, at https://www.npr.org/2020/06/08/872371063/microaggressions-are-a-big-deal-how-to-talk-them-out-and-when-to-walk-away
1. Ruchika Tulshyan, If You Don’t Know How to Say Someone’s Name, Just Ask, Harvard Business Review, at https://hbr.org/2020/01/if-you-dont-know-how-to-say-someones-name-just-ask
2. Ranjana Srinivasan, Understanding Name-Based Microaggressions: An Interview with Ranjana Srinivasan, PhD, Psychology Today, at https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/underdog-psychology/201909/understanding-name-based-microaggressions
3. Clare McLaughlin, The Lasting Impact of Mispronouncing Students’ Names, NEA Today, at http://neatoday.org/2016/09/01/pronouncing-students-names/
4. Andrew Limbong, What Is a Microaggression? And What to Do if You Experience One, NPR, at https://www.npr.org/2020/06/08/872371063/microaggressions-are-a-big-deal-how-to-talk-them-out-and-when-to-walk-away