An Alicia by any other name...

My white mother named me after my grandmothers.  She fell in love my paternal grandmother’s name.  My grandmother was delighted when she found out I had been named after her.  Growing up my name was not popular, in truth, most Mexican-American/LatinX names were not popular.  There were no bike license plates with my name on it, no pencils, or pens.  

However, monogrammed bike plates, pencils, and pens were small compared to trying to get people to understand and pronounce my name correctly. 

Trying to get people to understand was always tedious.  The correct way to pronounce my name is Al-lee-C-ya.  Here’s the pronunciation:  Alicia.  When I gave my name, most people inevitably heard:  Elise, Alisa, Lease, or Lisa.  Even when I spelled my name after saying…A L I C I A…they still got it wrong.

So I started using the white American pronunciation:  A-lee-sha which was better except the spelling was butchered.  I became Elisha, Alisha, Aleesha, etc.  But it was easier to have my name misspelled rather than mispronounced.  Then some where along the line a white teacher changed my name to the “American” (really the white) name Alice and by default my classmates followed suit and called me Alice because who are/how dare we questions/correct adults.  Side note:  my mother HATED that I was called Alice.  She would always exclaim, “you’re name is Al-lee-C-a not Alice!”  She didn’t care that it was hard for people to say.  She named me what she named me and in  her mind everyone else needed to get in line.   

Finally, when I went to college, I became Alisha because I wanted to use my name but knew I had to make it easier for white folks before they changed my name again.       

Then my name became popular, the world started to become more inclusive, I became an adult, and people started to ask me, “How do you pronounce your name?”, “Why did you tell me it was Alisha?”  And I had to explain to people the politics of being Mexican-American/LatinX with a Spanish name. 

“It’s easier for white people to say Alisha” which offended some and made others feel guilty.     

The truth is there was more to it than just mispronunciation of my name.  It was about assimilating and making it easier for the majority to accept another Mexican-American and to call me by a name that, even if it wasn’t exactly correct, was more correct than it had been before. 

I’ve started to use my correct pronunciation more often and have gotten to spelling my name right after even though the person still spells it wrong but baby steps, you know?