A personal experience of mine that is echoed in the vignette titled “My Name” is my struggle with my last name. As I shared in class, I have four siblings, and I’m the only one with a different last name. This came about because my dad was in jail when I was born. To be honest, I was bothered by it but not as bothered by the legacy of my last name on my mother’s side. My mother, her mother, her sister, her brother, and so on, were all in foster care and eventually turned to drugs. I hated that it seemed like history was repeating itself when I entered care. I felt as if I would just be another Butler on drugs; I thought I would be alone. The fear of becoming just another Butler swallowed me whole. The loneliness of my struggle weighed heavily on my shoulders, especially because I was the only one with a different last name among my siblings. In a world where your name is supposed to define you or open doors for you, mine felt like a sentence or a one-way ticket to a fate. I felt as if the weight of my last name was not just a label but a looming shadow.
Daily Archives: May 10, 2024
Through the class reading of the vignette “My Name” from *The House on Mango Street*, I shared the same troubles as the protagonist, Esperanza. I remember when I first moved from a rural village in China to New York for middle school, I couldn’t read a single word in English on my first day. When people asked for my name, I instinctively told them the Chinese pronunciation, and almost no one could say it correctly. Therefore, like other Asian kids, I ended up adopting an easy-to-pronounce English nickname, “Tom,” which I still use. However, like Esperanza, we both prefer that others accurately pronounce our names, rather than altering them just to make it easier for others to remember.
In “The House on Mango Street,” the vignette “Hairs” resonated with me because it reminded me of a time when I struggled with accepting my natural appearance. Just like Esperanza, who feels embarrassed about her unruly, curly hair and wishes it were different, I also went through a phase where I disliked certain aspects of my physical appearance. I wanted to fit in with what I perceived as the “norm,” which often meant conforming to beauty standards that didn’t embrace diversity. Reading about Esperanza’s journey to accepting her hair helped me realize the importance of self-love and embracing the uniqueness of who I am. It taught me that true beauty comes from accepting and loving ourselves just the way we are.
Through the vignettes in The House on Mango street we’ve read in class one I feel I have a personal experience I can relate to is “My Name”. In “My Name” The narrator Esperanza talks about how she doesn’t like her name, but for me it isn’t so much that I hate my first name Daverne, it’s more a feeling of identity. As his first son my dad named me after him. Growing up I didn’t mind the name but after sometime I started not liking the name so much. I felt like I was another extension of my father which isn’t bad, but I thought of other first sons who their fathers chose to give them a name other then their first names and I wished I could have that, a name that is my own. I think that is why I prefer using my middle name Fils as my official name. Fils is French for son, so instead of naming me Daverne junior, my dad named me Daverne Fils. If you really think about it since Fils mean junior I’m still technically an extinction of my father’s name but I do think the name’s pretty original so I like it. Whenever people ask me for my name I always say Fils, only at school and work do people call me by first name. Funny thing is at home I go by another name. In my entirety of me living my Family has never called me by my government name not even my father. They all call me Carvens. And if I’m being honest, Carvens feels like more like my name than Daverne and Fils ever did. Daverne would come a close second though since that is what people would always call me. Lately I have been feeling like […]
When I started high school after coming to the United States it was tough with my name Josue because is a rare name in the United States. On the first day the teachers said it, saying “Jo-sue?” And all various pronunciations I corrected then It’s Josue, but it didn’t bothered me, “Josue”with the accent on the middle syllable Ho-su-e. But the teachers couldn’t get it right no matter how many times I repeated it. I gave up and let them call me called me how they wanted because it didn’t bothered me at all, it turned funny in the good way at the point some professors said my name wrong knowing how to pronounced it. Even in where I come from there are two ways to pronounce it. After all I take it in the good and funny way, gives something special or different from other common names or probably is the context that I got it from. Some times I give my middle name “Alexander” when they want to called me but in a easier way.
In “The House on Mango Street,” there’s a vignette titled “My Name” this title resonates with my name also. My name is Harsneh and everyone pronounced it as harshneh, harsneha. During my childhood, I frequently faced situations where my name was mispronounced, sometimes unintentionally but occasionally persistently even after I corrected it. This experience was disheartening and made me feel disconnected, as though my true identity was being ignored or dismissed. Given how strongly names relate to our identities, hearing people pronounce my name incorrectly makes me feel both frustrated and disappointed. It could seem like a lack of care or attention. However, I accept that mistakes are inevitable and handle them patiently.. In my primary school, everyone pronounces my name wrongly even the teachers. That time I used to ask my family I wanted to change my name I didn’t want this name but then my family told me the meaning of the name, that my name meant to love god. Since that time I always love my name.
The vignette “My Name” from the House on Mango Street struck out to me. This felt relatable since, I struggled with my name. When I first came to the United States, I was in second grade. I didn’t know how to speak correct English and was really shy at the time, since I was also very young. I recall telling the teacher my name was Falaq, and she never pronounced it correctly; after four tries, I gave up and stuck with the mispronounced name she said, which was Faliq. From second to sixth grade, I was known as Faliq. Even today people still pronounce my name wrong, it is very rare for me to hear someone pronounce my name correctly.
The vignette that stood out to me was, “My Name.” This vignette stood out to me because I have always struggled with liking my last name. My last name is from my Dad, who I have never had a great relationship with. Unfortunately, I have always longed for the name of the family I am always around. Sometimes I feel left out because I am the only person with this last name. It is hard to resonate with my name because of this. When it was brought out that she was bullied or people would say it incorrectly, I went through the same thing at school. Many people would purposely say my name incorrectly to spite me and it was very upsetting because I already didn’t have a great relationship with my name. I have learned from my mom that I should embrace my name no matter what and that’s why this vignette stood out to me.
