The Two Aksharas
Last summer, I fortuitously stumbled upon a video of my favorite comedian Hasan Minhaj on Ellen. During the first few seconds of the clip, Hasan corrects Ellen when she mispronounces his name. To say I was shocked was an understatement; I had never seen a famous comedian, much less a South Asian comedian, unafraid to correct a prominent and popular talk show host on the pronunciation of their name. The part from the clip that resonated with me the most is that Hasan emphasized that it was important to him that he correct the mispronunciation of his name on national television in front of his parents. Although I didn't understand it at the time, his courage and conviction in his identity profoundly affected my life.
As an Indian-American, I've learned that names have tremendous power. My name, Akshara - in Sanskrit - means indestructible knowledge. As a young child, I quickly learned that there were two versions of my name - "Ack-SHAH-rah" and "Akh-shura" - my two conflicting identities. There was "Ack-SHAH-rah," the Americanized version of myself who played softball and whose favorite TV show was Gossip Girl. Then, there was "Akh-shura," the Indian version who spoke Marathi and whose favorite movie was Dil Dhadakne Do. For the longest time, I endeavored to keep these two Akshara's separate. No matter the circumstances, "Akh-shura" at home didn't intersect with "Ack-SHAH-rah" at school. I wasn't comfortable showing "Akh-shura" to my classmates, who only knew me as "Ack-SHAH-rah." I never corrected anyone when they said my name because I didn't want to attract unwanted attention. I didn’t want to be the only kid in class who had to speak out and say something when the teacher took attendance. I didn’t want to speak out. For years, I ignored my parents when they said I should correct people and shouldn't be ashamed to spend that extra minute when I first introduced myself. But how could I overcome the fear of judgment?
The following year, I started introducing myself as "Akh-shura" and not "Ack-SHAH-rah." I still remember the first time a teacher asked me if they said my name correctly. My hands shook, and my heartbeat a million miles a minute. In that split second, I debated internally. Do I correct her, or do my name and myself an injustice?
It took a while to get used to, and I was uncomfortable every time I said, "No, that's not how you pronounce my name." Nonetheless, I powered through the anxiety and continued to politely correct classmates and teachers. Being Indian-American meant I was caught in two different worlds; East and West, Hollywood and Bollywood, English and Marathi, Daal Rice and Mac and Cheese. I didn't know how to manage the two. However, after watching Hasan correct Ellen, I realized I needed to let both Aksharas coexist and let my two worlds intersect.
"Ack-SHAH-rah" and "Akh-shura" made me into who I am today. I was inspired by Hasan’s courage and conviction to advocate for himself and his culture when the whole world was watching. Seeing someone who looked like me on national television doing something that would definitely attract unwanted attention empowered me to do the same within my life, because if he could do it, why couldn’t I?
As important as it was to pronounce my name correctly, this was beyond my name. It was about me learning how to assert myself for what I believed in. Watching Hasan Minhaj take pride in his name, the forefront of his identity, and the illustration of his culture inspired me to take pride in my heritage and taught me that speaking out is vital. I am not afraid to say my name.
