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After years of near silence, I now refuse to let people butcher my name just because it's 'too hard' for them to say. Courtesy of Nishtha Chaudhary. 2025-04-05T17:24:01Z SaveSaved Read in app This story is available exclusively to Business Insider subscribers. Become an Insider and start reading now.Have an account? My grandfather gave me a unique name that now carries much meaning for me.My name has been mispronounced and shortened since childhood and I didn't always correct people. Now, when introducing myself, I make sure people have my name right. My grandfather named me Nishtha, a Sanskrit word that means loyalty and commitment. It's not a name you're likely to hear in passing. Even in India, it's not very popular. The only time I hear it is when leaders take an oath to serve the nation 'with nishtha' (unwavering loyalty).That rarity always made me feel special, like my name carried a quiet kind of power. But it also meant a lifetime of hesitation before introductions, of watching my name be reshaped, mispronounced, and whittled down until it was unrecognizable.The first of many mispronunciationsThe first time I heard my name pronounced wrong, I was too young to know I could push back.It was my first day at a new school. I was a shy, anxious kid, gripping the edge of my desk, counting the seconds until I'd have to introduce myself. But the teacher skipped right past that opportunity, straight to roll call.And then she paused."Nis Nees Nista How do you say this?" She asked, her eyes narrowing in confusion.I could feel the other kids looking at me. "It's Nishtha," I said quietly. "'Ni, like the first sound in nickel, sh like the soft but clear sound in shoe, and tha, with a sharp burst of air."She tried again, still wrong, then shrugged and moved on. She didn't even bother to keep trying to get it right. Almost every teacher did the same. Some asked if they were saying it right. Some didn't. And after a while, I just stopped correcting them.I moved around a lot, seven schools, four cities over ten years, so I heard every possible version of my name. In one place, I became Nishka. In another, Nishitha. Sometimes kids called me Nashtha, which means breakfast in Hindi, and laughed as if it was the most original thing they'd ever come up with.Each mispronunciation chipped away at me, but I told myself it didn't matter. Until it did.Moving abroad brought a new level of erasureWhen I moved to Ireland for my master's, my name wasn't just mispronounced, it was erased.People called me Nish, Niz, or whatever was easiest for them. At first, I corrected them. I smiled, repeated it slowly, and gave them a chance. I knew how hard some names were to pronounce. Irish names were tricky for me too, but I always asked for clarification, and I kept asking until I got them right it was important to meSome people made the effort, and it felt like a small victory. But most didn't.I then started introducing myself with a version I knew they could say. Nisha was simple enough, so I used it at work. When ordering takeout, I became Nessa, because I was tired of repeating myself over the phone. It was easier that way, right? Less awkward pauses, fewer forced smiles.One time, at a party, I introduced myself as Nesta. It was a character's name from a book I was obsessed with at the time. If I was going to change my name for their convenience, I figured I might as well pick one I actually liked. But every time I did that, I felt like I was making myself smaller."I'll just call you N"During one holiday season, I was working a retail job when a colleague turned to me and said, "I'm terrible with names, so I'll just call you N. The store is busy, and it's quicker for me that way."It wasn't a question. She didn't stumble over my name. She didn't try and fail. She just decided it was too much effort and cut it down to a single letter. Like my name, my identity, who I was it all just took up too much space for her.I should've corrected her. I should've said something. Instead, I let it happen.That night, lying in bed replaying the moment, I felt angry. Not just at her. At myself. Why did I let people shrink my name? Why did I make myself smaller for their convenience?My name is meaningfulWhat's in a name? More than you think.My name is my history. It carries the weight of generations. It's my grandfather's gift to me. It's my roots. It's not too long. Not too hard. Not yours to cut down, twist, or erase.If I can show you respect by learning your name, you can do the same for me.It's just three syllables. Not Nish. Not N. Nishtha. And now I will correct you until you get it right.Recommended video
