If I can’t stand up for my name, then what can I stand up for?

I loved Mr. Balfour, my grade three teacher.  I don’t clearly remember why I had a crush on him. Maybe it was his thick brown hair, crystal blue eyes and deep voice. What I do have clarity on was a perpetual need to impress him, to be a good student and to show him my favorite toy (which, I do remember, he wasn’t too interested in).

I was painfully shy then. I never asked for help or spoke up in class. I had no voice. School was an event that filled me with anxiety.

On the first parent teacher night my parents went for their 15-minute meeting with Mr. Balfour. I wish I was a fly on the wall that evening. I can imagine the look of confusion on my parent’s faces as Mr. Balfour referred to me as “Day-na”, when I was born with the name Dana (pronounced “Danna”).

My Mom named me after a Ms. Universe contestant.

She used to dabble in modelling and loved watching these shows. Ironic since she had a daughter who wanted to be invisible. Probably frustrating for her too. I tried to disappear by wearing dark drab clothing, like a velour brown jogging suit that was my “go to” outfit.

When I went to school the next day Mr. Balfour, in what seemed to me like a mad voice, said “You’ve been in my class for two months and I’ve been calling you the wrong name the whole time.  Why didn’t you correct me?”

With no words I shrugged my shoulders and looked down at the ground. I felt like I had disappointed him.

Skip ahead 35 years (or so).

I can’t even count how many times I’ve been called “Dayna”. Sometimes I don’t even notice. When I do, I often still don’t correct people. Even if it is my name.

At times I’ll make a lighthearted correction by saying “It’s actually pronounced “Danna” – like “Dana Banana”.” I figure a rhyme will do the trick. This usually gets a chuckle, but they do always remember after.

Unfortunately, now when people think of me, they probably envision a big yellow fruit. I can only imagine what this has done for me in my career.

What’s in a name?  

In my case, it’s not just an important part of my identity. By not correcting people it’s also become indicative of how little I will stand up for myself. If I can’t stand up for my name, then what can I stand up for?

Do you remember a time when you wish you had said something and didn’t? Was your silence justified or were you just afraid?

For some inexplicable reason there’s been fear associated with me correcting people.  And I can see that a similar fear exists in many of my actions – how I have made decisions, how I have expressed myself, and even how I have chosen jobs.

But over the years, I have begun to correct people. Sharing my name and making sure people get it right has become symbolic to my progress and where I am going.

I am unfolding – and it begins with my name.

No, my name is not pronounced “Dayna”. It’s Dana.

Unfolding Tip:

Stand by something that fully represents who you are. If you can’t stand up for that…then what can you stand up for?