My name is Yathaswee. I was born and raised in Nepal until the tender age of 8 years old when my parents, my sister, and I packed up our lives in suitcases and moved to the US.
Yathaswee was a name given to me by my aunt. However, the problem was that everyone had difficulty pronouncing it, including my grandparents and parents. As I was growing up, I was never called by the name on my birth certificate.
My family had settled on a short little nickname, completely unrelated to my actual name, and I was called that throughout my years of schooling in Nepal.
I bet everyone wants to know what it is but it’s simply too embarrassing to share. Maybe one day, I’ll have to confidence to not care.
Okay okay. For progress. It’s Kuka. Short and sweet.
As any immigrant would have, I came to a first world country from a third world country, with an incredible amount of insecurities. I was used to seeing the amazing country that was America, on TV shows.
The short amount of time I had for TV, was used up by watching a dubbed version of Hannah Montana on the small TV in my parent’s bedroom.
Going to Elementary School was very scary. I was shy, timid, and insecure. I didn’t look like the white girls in School. I didn’t have any friends. That year I learned so many things all at once. I wanted so badly to be a White American, with a white family. It was something impossible to do.
I wanted peanut butter jelly sandwiches in my lunch, not rice with dal.
I wanted my parents to be able to come to my school as speak English with other parents.
I wanted to buy new clothes from popular little girl’s store like Justice, not re-wear my old clothes from Nepal.
I was no longer just a girl. In my eyes, I was a poor immigrant girl with short hair, from a small third world country. That was my identity and I wanted to do everything I could to get far away from it as possible. I was embarrassed when someone asked me where I was from, I was embarrassed when people asked what my parents did for a living, and I was embarrassed when teachers called out my name in class.
My names caused many internal conflicts. I asked myself, why couldn’t my parents have named me Emma, or Claire, or something basic. Every time I told someone my name, confusion would be written on their face and they would settle with a smile and call it “unique”. I mean, people weren’t wrong, it was different, but I hated being different.
All I wanted was to blend into the background becoming one of the other American girls. It was up until high school that I still had the lingering feelings of shame because of where I came from.
The ways I felt had a huge impact on the person I became. My sister deepened my insecurities when she would say I was “whitewashed”. Contrary, as a young adult, I have no shame for the things I felt as a child.
If anyone else was in my shoes, with my experiences, and insecurities, I don’t doubt the outcome would have been any different.
It’s normal to want to be liked, to make friends, and fit in. As a little girl that’s all I wanted.
Today, one of my proudest accomplishments is myself. I have grown to love myself and everything that is me. Of course, I still have insecurities but it’s an amazing feeling to accept myself. When someone asks me about where I am from, with a smile on my face, I’m so excited to share about my homeland, Nepal. Although I have lived more than half of my life in the States and feel that it is more like my home, Nepal has given my life meaning.
I am happy not to be in a position of privilege (AKA white) because it would mean that I would be unaware and wouldn’t have the ability to know the struggles of being a minority. Because of the person I am, I was able to open my eyes to the injustices of the world and share them with a perspective no one has heard before.
I am grateful for my past because if I was not, I wouldn’t be the strong (and short) women that I am today.
That seems like the natural place where this article would come to an end but nope… I haven’t even gotten to my topic. Oh boy.
A struggle that is still present in my life is my name. I’ve never been comfortable with it. My friends find more comfort than me.
The main reason why is because of the way it affects me socially. I am afraid of all the opportunities that I will lose because of what my names gives away in America. It is not a name derived from Christianity, it’s ethnic and alien. If everybody accepted it, there wouldn’t be a problem, but it leads to blocks in the road of life for many Asians, African Americans, Latinas (basically everyone who is not white) such as myself.
Despite having a strong resume, I can’t help but think that rejections I’ve gotten from minimum wage jobs were due to my ethnic background which includes my name. Even if this is illegal due to employment discrimination acts and equal opportunity employers, the laws cannot eradicate the world of discrimination and prejudices that may be consciously or subconsciously lodged into the minds of Americans.
A recent 2017 Canadian research report showed that “large employers with over 500 employees discriminate against applicants with Asian (Chinese, Indian, or Pakistani) names in the decision to call for an interview…” It is these types of facts that scare me about the opportunities that I may be welcomed into in my near future. The researchers of this report further explained by saying, “for every 100 calls received by applicants with Anglo names, applicants with Asian names received only 72.2”. You can further read the specifics of this research here.
There have been many studies done which shows a range in the influence of your name in your ability to find jobs, but the undeniable evidence shows that the problem exists. These practices occur frequently, even though it’s racist and discriminatory, it’s the world we live in today.
The name of this blog is a reflection of my inner conflict, but it makes me beg the question.
Should I be fighting a fight knowing that it’s leaving me disadvantageous in this world? Or should I comply in the ways that are helpful to me but supports the idea of white supremacy?
What I know is that I want the playing field leveled.
Evie's Travel Blog 