My Zoom name tag is “Don Ng 吳錫民.”Under my rectangular picture is both my English and Chinese names. When I was born, my parents gave me my Chinese name. I was first called by my Chinese name. Beginning on the left is “Ng,” my family name. The middle character is “Thlick,” my generational name; all my cousins had that same character. And the last character is “Min,” my very own name. Like Adam, God gives us the task to bestow names on people. (Genesis 2:19)
Not before long, Mrs. Mildred Davis, officially known as the “Church Visitor” at First Baptist Church, Boston gave my brothers and me English names. I heard that “Donald” was the name of one of Mrs. Davis’ brothers. To be Americans, we needed American names; names that people can pronounce. In the early 20th century, the Americanization Movement was aimed at turning foreigners into Americans.
In the English language, most words require a vowel to be pronounced. But when my father went through immigration, he registered as “Ng” because in my Toisanese dialect, “Ng” was closest to the Chinese sound of my family name. But when I was growing up, “Ng” was a ubiquitous handicap. I had to always pronounce my name for people. After a while, I wished I was a Lee or a Wong or a Chen.
In junior high, there were these small white seating cards that we students filled out at the beginning of the school year. These were collected and the teacher would put these little cards into a card holder in the same order where we were sitting. The card holder was like how we used to save dimes for the March of Dimes or quarters to eventually convert to a US Savings Bond. We were asked to write our last name in capitals followed by a comma and only our first initial. I wrote “NG, D.” When the teacher came to my card, he said, “Is this a no-good desk?” I was mortified.
When the maître d’ asked for my name waiting for a table, I used to say, “Washington.” To the surprise of my friends, I said, “Who can get George wrong? Anyway, “Ng” is in Washington!”
To belong, to blend in, to assimilate, to be invisible, I didn’t want to be foreign. Unbeknownst to me, my Chinese name was being erased. It was hard enough to be a “Ng” without having to use “Thlick-Min” too.
Black Americans are killed by police who pledged to protect. Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders are victimized as scapegoats for the coronavirus. Hispanic Americans die from the virus because they are front-line workers. When we protest, rally and speak up, we say, “Say His/Her Name!” We say, “Daunte Wright, George Floyd, Adam Toledo, Breonna Tayler, Victa Ratanapakdee” and so many more names that we have lost count.
Names are like windows to the world. They are given by our parents/guardians as a prayerful hope of who we would become. My name “Thlick-Min” means “leader of the people.” Those who have died before their time didn’t have a lifetime to become who they would have become.
Today, I am reclaiming my full name, both my Chinese name and my English name because they represent who I am and nobody will erase my name from me anymore! I am Asian 吳錫民 and American Donald and I am a proud member of the Ng family!