Sandy Ha

When I think about my name, I think about what a name represents at its most basic level. Why do we name things and why do we have names for ourselves? What do our names say about us, and more so, what do our names say *for us*? I was given one name by my parents when we lived on a different continent. After living in this one for a few years, I chose a completely different name for myself. I was six. The name I chose is the name I still go by today―Sandy. As a six year-old immigrant, this decision has often felt more like a reaction than expression, though it has a similar energy to a child naming one of their dolls. So perhaps it’s more expressive than I’ve given myself credit for. Decades later, I’ve gone back and forth about returning to my given name, my Korean name, as a way to reclaim identity and heritage and so forth. But I’ve not felt that to be an authentic expression of myself. This renaming/unnaming seemed more reactive than the decision the six year-old me made. What I realized is I don’t really have a desire to be called by my given name by everybody. In a way, it’s become a tender nickname that family, relatives, and few others beyond that know me by. Its utterance conveys a particular relationship I have with the ones who call me by it, and its written form is recognized only in Hangul.

More Community Stories