What's in a name? Surnames, race, and identity in academia

As an academic, names become something extremely prevalent to your career and identity. This is because when we publish, our surnames become attached to our work forever. Our careers are dependent on this one word that attaches our identities to our expertise.

This can come with a lot of intersectional challenges. For example, it is common for women in academia when they get married to change their names, but keep their maiden name's in their publications, as if they change it, it could look like a completely different body of work. 

An article in Nature 'Racial inequalities in journals highlighted in giant study' by Amanda Heidt, found that scientists from minority ethnic groups experience various forms of inequality throughout the academic-publishing process and are poorly represented on journal editorial boards. 

The study itself is an imperfect study, as the algorithms used misclassified Black names 65% of the time, which led researchers to argue that it might be more appropriate to frame the results as measuring discrimination against names that appear unfamiliar to reviewers. They also argued that not only is it the lack of diversity on these editorial boards, but also could be that researchers are hesitant to accept papers from editors with 'foreign affiliations'. 

This not only puts those with 'ethnic' surnames at risk, but also creates disparities between Western publications, and Asia, Africa, and South America. 

This sets some of the academic contexts for this discussion about names, race, and identity. 

The history of my name: 

My mothers Chinese maiden name is 'Thian', and according to a quick google search, is a common surname in Singapore in Chinese communities (which makes sense as my family currently live there). 

My mother and her parents were born in Indonesia, with no idea where her great-grandparents are from in China. In Indonesia in the 1960s there was what my mother describes as an 'ethnic cleansing' where my family had to covert their Chinese names to Indonesian names. 'Thian' became 'Tianadi'. As a Chinese family, it was difficult for them to retain that sense of Chinese heritage while an entire country was attempting to erase it, which makes the taking of this name an even more challenging decision to make. 

Not only is there a decision to be made about whether to claim my mothers maiden name, there is also a choice to be made whether I claim the forced Indonesian heritage, or the Chinese heritage, that would bring me closer to my own identity, but technically separate me from my family. 

I also have a Chinese name, which many people never ask about, as it is usually assumed I do not have one. Both myself and my mixed brother have them (his is admittedly cooler than mine), but its also a way that I feel closer to my Chinese identity and family, without it impinging on my Western life and workplace. It's a safe name, and the fact there is a difference between a safe name and a 'risky' name is telling in itself. 

Mixedness and names

As a Chinese mixed race woman, I have a British white surname, but my heritage includes a number of Chinese/Indonesian names that creates a nuance to identity and how names change perceptions of us in the world.

With my identity comes many people asking for proof of my Chinese heritage. 

• People sometimes choose language (no one in my family speaks Chinese as they were raised in Indonesia and Nigeria).
• Some choose the area of China you're from (my family have no idea where in China they are from).
• Or the ambiguity of my face  (I mean, most people think I am white). 

I make these points to firstly, highlight how these are not indicators of ethnic 'proof', but indicative of our assumptions of what makes someones heritage legitimate. 

Secondly, we sometimes have a deficit assumption that 'ethnic' names in Britain is always a negative experience. Yes, it can create barriers in academic workplaces and publishing, but it also gives power and identity to those who hold them. 

If I possessed a more 'Asian' name, then I may get less people questioning my ethnic identity, I might gain access to new communities, I might be able to separate myself from whiteness just that little bit more. And for many, that is the goal. To find power in heritage. 

But with my family history also comes questions such as:

• If I change my name, will it be seen as 'foreign affiliated'? 
• Can I claim an Indonesian or Chinese name, when my family name was stripped and stolen?
• Will people not cite me in presentations as they do not know how to pronounce it? 
• Will I be chosen last to introduce myself as everyone will be afraid to ask how to pronounce my name?
• Will I be racialised more in the workplace? Will this be a good or bad thing for me mentally? 

My name falls on racial lines, representing the joy and beauty that comes with a connection to your past, while simultaneously highlighting the hostility present for those not possessing a Western name. 

I realise this can be considered a unique position for a Chinese mixed heritage woman in academia to be dealing with, both time-limit wise, but also identity wise, with unique reasons as to why and when. 

Surnames and whiteness

I do not know if someone sees my surname on a CV and gives me more of a chance of getting that job, I don't know if replacing that name with a more obviously non-Western alternative will change the way the world perceives me. I have white protection through my overall ambiguous look, as well as in my named identity. 

I don't know what I might be sacrificing if that is changed. 

And that's why mixed identities can be so interesting. 

Those I have met who are mixed with whiteness/associated with a Western surname have stories of their own. I have friends whose parents have had discussions around what name to give their children, a Western one, or an Asian one, and the implications that come with these decisions. 

In these instances, they represent how people (either the individual themselves, or their family) have had to make a choice between being who they are and who the world wants them to be. 

But this is also not the experience for everyone. 

Different experiences 

My reflection on my heritage and name stems from an inspirational talk from a friend of mine, Tré Ventour, who discussed his relationship with his name. In his recent poem 'Mine?', inspired by 'Unnamed' by Black American poet and author Porsha Olayiwola, he talks about the connection his surname has with colonial legacies of slavery, highlighting

"when we call out our enslaver or captor's name to introduce ourselves, and when our names are not divorced from the history of white supremacy".

He inspires us all to take a look into our pasts, and understand where our legacies lie, and self-reflect on our histories and what that means for us today, as our names hold a lot of weight, especially those racialised in contemporary Britain.  

His words inspired me to look into my heritage where I found these complications. Where I found that my Chinese identity is more complicated than I first imagined, that it was a heavier choice than what I first believed it to be, and each choice had a very different cultural, social, and political meaning. 

In my predicament, you are given a choice, and when you are given a choice, you have to deal with consequences you chose, not just what you were given.  

Nuance in names 

The point I am trying to make here, as messy as it may seem, is that names both reveal a lot and nothing all at once. They can offer safety and security, whilst also risk changing one's entire life outcomes depending on their geographical location or career choice. 

We need to have a deeper respect for names and identity. One video that really shows the importance of correct pronunciation of someones name can be found in this amazing video by Tony Giroux, Dr. Javeria Khadija Shah, Pereko Makgothi, and Kristina Lao, called My Name Is., highlighting the experiences of individuals with non-western first names and how it links to their identities in the contexts of English norms. 

It expresses how names deserve respect. Names are our identities, and are all we are left with when we leave this earth. It is something people cannot take away from you. 

And my identity and name represents how it doesn't reveal everything, and we need to have more interest and curiosity into mixed identities that maybe do not show everything on their faces and within their names. We can sometimes require a little extra digging. 

But when you do, it reveals something beautiful. While we are allowed to change our surnames whenever we want, in an academic space, there seems to be a time limit placed on them early in our careers. 

When you have to make a choice between being yourself and being accepted, what would you chose?