The Highlander

Issue date: 10/27/08 Section: Perspectives

As the election rhetoric is nearing a climatic fever pitch, one thing that rings loudly in my ears is the increasing recitation of Barack Obama's middle name, Hussein. While I realize that this is part of the back and forth discourse (or lack there of) in another intense election year, it did make me ponder my personal experiences with my own middle name and the personal significance my middle name has for me.
In my family, like in many East Indian families, a person often inherits their middle name from their father. My middle name is my father's first name, his middle name was his father's first name, my daughter's middle name is my first name- you get the picture.
Like Senator Obama and millions of Americans, my middle name might be perceived as exotic, foreign sounding, or hard to pronounce. It could also represent for some, a diverse ethical and/or religious tradition.
You should know, I'm very proud of my middle name; it will always represent the connection I have with my father, a hero to me. I feel that my middle name is an inherent part of my identity and gets to the core of who I am as a person. Yet since my childhood, I have always been reluctant to share this important item of information with people. Growing up, I was constantly asked what my middle name was. "What does the "U" stand for, Sajit?"
On most occasions even just a couple of weeks ago, I paused a moment before mentioning it. My middle name is still not information that I freely volunteer. Why the sensitivity you ask? It stems from the fact that growing up, when I was ridiculed and harassed for some reason or another, the weapon of choice often was the belittling of my middle name. People would recite it loudly and jeeringly most often mispronouncing it intentionally. I imagine I represented something foreign, alien, and perhaps scary to them at the time, and the best way to articulate those sentiments was through my middle name. But what frustrated me most was how I felt that in some way they were ridiculing not only me, but my father at the same time. What did he ever do that was so wrong to them? I also thought it pretty cowardly of them to articulate their perceptions of me through this childish game. Why didn't these people just confront me head on about their concerns instead of doing it indirectly through insulting my middle name, my father's name? This continued for me throughout my childhood to the point when as a Catholic in 8th grade, when I received the sacrament of confirmation, I actually changed my middle initial from "U" to "J" on my confirmation certificate. (J stands for Joseph and is my baptismal name.) But afterwards, I felt really ashamed. And though my father never stated it, I knew he was hurt by this gesture.

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