Allow me to reintroduce myself
The story of why I am changing my name (kind of…)
Hi! My name is David.
Okay, stop. Pause for just a second. How did you pronounce my name in your head when you read that opening sentence? I would suspect that most of you read it as “Day-vid.” For the first 25 years of my life that is how I pronounced it too, around most people. Meeting new people, “Day-vid” is who I would introduce myself as. And in the anglophone world in which I grew up, “Day-vid” is in fact the correct pronunciation.
But that is not how my name is pronounced. So, in the words of Jay-Z: allow me to reintroduce myself.
My name is David (pronounced “Duh-veed”). You can hear how it’s pronounced in the video below.
This is the story of why I am changing my name.
My dual identities
I was born and raised in South Africa by Congolese parents. When I was 13 years old, my family and I moved to Canada. My parents raised me and my siblings in English and English alone, though at the time they were still learning the language themselves. French and Swahili were common in our household, but typically only for top secret conversations between Mum and Dad that they didn’t want the kids to overhear… (at least, that’s how I saw it!)
My life is defined by my dual identities. At home I am “Duh-veed”, the son of Congolese immigrants. I eat fufu, pondu, and makemba, listen to Koffi Olomida, Fally Ipupa and Naza, and (attempt to) speak French.
But out in the world, I am a chameleon. My identity morphs and adapts to the environment around me. Answering a simple question like “Where are you from?” isn’t so simple for me, because the answer depends. To my South African friends, I am from South Africa. To my Congolese family and friends, I am a Congolese South African. To most of my Canadian friends, I am from Saskatchewan, the province that welcomed my family to the country, and to some who know me better, I am South African too. To the friends I have met elsewhere around the world, I am a combination of the three. Which three depends on how much time and energy I had when I introduced myself…
Yet despite my complex backstory, one thing remained constant when I was out in the world, away from home and Congolese family friends: the way I pronounced my name, “Day-vid”.
Blending into the world around me
David is a biblical name, most commonly associated with King David of Israel, who defeated the giant Goliath in the fabled tale of “David and Goliath”. David is a popular name in many parts of the world. Most people I’ve met are very confident in its pronunciation, “Day-vid”, which is why I have never endeavoured to correct them. Ironic, because in Hebrew, the language spoken by King David who arguably popularised the name, David is also pronounced “Duh-veed.” However, from a young age I accepted that in the anglophone world I resided in, I was “Day-vid”.
But at home I was “Duh-veed,” and I protected that. As a child, my family friends (fellow South Africans with Congolese parents) were aware this and would sometimes call me “Day-vid” just to get under my skin, as kids are wont to do. I associated the duality of my name with the duality of the worlds I resided in. At home, with his family and Congolese community around him, “Duh-veed” embraced his heritage, while at school “Day-vid” assimilated first to the predominately white, Afrikaans culture in his private South African primary school, and then to the predominately white, anglophone cultures of the Canadian high schools he transitioned to. I was always aware of the conflict in my identities, but until recently they lived together peacefully within me.
At 23 years old, I was forced to confront duality of my name for the first time. In the summer of 2020, like the rest of the world, I was faced with the death of George Floyd, the ensuing Black Lives Matter protests erupting globally, and the racial awakenings they brought to society. These events forced me to reflect on my race, my cultural identity, and how I navigated the world as a black, African immigrant. It was in a Zoom call with some old university friends (all from immigrant families, and mostly people of colour), that I, “Day-vid,” first confessed to any non-Congolese friends that my name was pronounced differently at home; that to my family I was “Duh-veed.”
I left the conversation feeling perplexed by a simple question: “Would you like us to call you ‘Duh-veed’ from now on?”
I hesitated, and sat in silence for a few moments.
“I don’t know,” I had replied.
Why change?
It is interesting the effect that one conversation, and one question can have. What my friends had asked me, in essence, was “how would you like your name to be pronounced?”- a radical question that I had never considered, nor been empowered to answer.
The question lay dormant in the back of my mind for a few months. It was only in March 2021, after a conversation with another friend who faced a similar challenge with his name, that I found my answer. Our conversation later turned into a podcast episode, in which I explained my conundrum:
“Do I emphasize that people call me by my name as it is pronounced at home? Or do I allow people to pronounce it in a way that suits them?… If you’d asked me 2, 3, 4 or 5 years ago I’d say it doesn’t really matter… But I am learning that is worth it to pick some of these battles, to try and insert a bit of myself and my culture, to teach others about that side of myself — the ‘home side’ of David.”
My name is a part of my culture, my identity and who I am; it is not something that I want to compromise anymore.
Why now? Putting words to action
Despite my clarity in March, I was not ready to put my words into action. Fast forward to today, I have now moved again, from Canada to the UK to start my master’s degree in Engineering for Sustainable Development. If you ever need to make change in your life, drastically changing your environment is one way to do it.
When I arrived at school here in the UK, I introduced myself as “Day-vid.” Old habits die hard. But it was one conversation, and the commitment of one person, that pushed me forward yet again.
A couple of weeks after arriving, I made a new friend, and promptly introduced myself as “Day-vid”. A few minutes into our conversation after sharing my life story, I reintroduced myself to her as “Duh-veed.” And bless her soul, she committed to calling me “Duh-veed” like a disciple spreading the word of the Bible. She told many of our mutual friends about the correct pronunciation of my name even before I did. She would even catch me introducing myself as “Day-vid” and helped me correct myself on numerous occasions.
It was a few days after that conversation that I decided to fully commit to the change. One of my course assignments is to conduct a “personal change challenge”: to carry out a personal experiment during the term to try and change something real in my life in what I say, or what I do.
This is my change challenge.
On Thursday, October 28th, 2021 I reintroduced myself to my classmates as “Duh-veed.” The next day, I started writing this article.
Reclaiming my name
“Duh-veed” is my small way of reconciling my two identities. It is a statement that I do not need to assimilate and change aspects of my identity to conform to the societies and cultures around me. The chameleon who adapts to the environment can begin to do away with its camouflage. There are many things that I will have to sacrifice and compromise on in my life to adapt to my new environments. My name and its pronunciation will not be one of them.
So, from now on please call me David (pronounced “Duh-veed”). When we talk next, I will do my best to reintroduce myself to you as “Duh-veed” to initiate that change; but I recognise that change takes time. I am still learning to introduce myself as “Duh-veed,” and to correct people who call me “Day-vid.” I understand that the people who have been in my life for years, who know me as “Day-vid,” will go through a similar process. So please, do call me David (pronounced “Duh-veed”) — but no worries if you slip up — I probably will too. We’ll figure it out together.
A Final Fun Fact — Another pronunciation of my name…
Though “Day-vid” and “Duh-veed” are the two pronunciations of my name I have used throughout my life, there is yet another pronunciation that stems from a part of my cultural identity: Daudi (pronounced “Duh-oo-di”).
Daudi is the Swahili and Mashi version of my name. These languages are common to eastern Congo, where my family originates from. Why not ask you to call me Daudi? Simply because it is not the name I was raised with.
