Jasmine Vu

Growing up, I went to a predominately white K-8 Catholic school. Though I never had to experience the struggle of my peers not knowing how to pronounce my name, the topic of names was quite popular in those years. This made me more curious about my name and about my parents’ names because when they both got to America after the war, they chose American names for themselves. I asked them why and they just chalked it up to, “So it was easier for us to get jobs. That is why we gave you and your sister American names so you would not have to change your names in the future.” As a child who was already struggling to fit in, this sounded reasonable. It was not until high school that I became increasingly aware of my identity as an Asian American, which turned into resentment. Why did my parents have to sacrifice their names for survival? Would I be more in touch with my heritage if I was given a Vietnamese name? Why did I have to grow up in shame surrounding my culture? Was my name meant to serve as a shield against this shame? I grew up loving my name and after reflecting on the context, I am still fond of it. It still has many ties to Vietnamese culture as it is a rice that is commonly eaten in the cuisine, a tea, and a native flower. My parents probably did not think this far when naming me Jasmine, but I think that the name encompasses my identity pretty well.

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