It’s simpler to pronounce than it looks — although the myriad ways people have attempted to pronounce my last name is mind-boggling. Correct pronunciation and, even more so, genuine efforts to correctly pronounce someone’s name signals respect. Further, many of us have names or surnames that form part of our lineage — purposefully mispronouncing them is disrespectful to our ancestors, heritage and traditions. It can also be discriminatory and, in some instances, rooted in racism (we can think of how right-wing pundits in the US purposely mispronounce Kamala Harris’s name). 

Just like I have modified my 11-letter last name (Nguinambaye) to a phonetic seven letters (Gi-num-by) in this article, many of us are forced to adapt or anglicize our names to make them easier to say for monolingual English speakers, usually white. The anglicization of non-English names is a form of identity erasure; often dismissing a fundamental aspect of a person’s cultural identity. Dealing with mispronunciation and a lack of effort to correctly say our names is therefore doubly harmful and othering.

On February 2, 2024, the South Asian Bar Association of BC, the Federation of Asian Canadian Lawyers (BC) Society and CBABC published a letter on name pronunciation sent to B.C.’s chief justices. The letter provides a thorough description of the harms of name mispronunciation and why changes should be introduced in our justice system. In March, the courts acknowledged the importance of correct pronunciation and communicated the letter’s contents to B.C.’s judges.

Mispronouncing someone’s name is not funny and should not be made light of; not trying to correct yourself says, “I don’t value you.” If you don’t know how to say someone’s name, ask them for the correct pronunciation and make every effort to say it correctly. Integrate this into your cultural humility practice to nurture curiosity about and appreciation for others. Be patient and respectful. Although your effort is always appreciated, you might be the third person this week, or even this day asking someone for the correct pronunciation of their name, a foundational and fundamental aspect of their identity. If they do not respond with eagerness, be understanding rather than frustrated.

I am grateful to the judges and associate judges who have already started this practice. Although it can be a little awkward for both parties, I appreciate every instance where a judge has followed my introduction with a request to hear my last name again and make a note on how to say it. The meaning behind this gesture is “You are welcome here. Even though you are still underrepresented, I am taking this opportunity to make space for you and put myself into minor discomfort so that you can be comfortable.” I assume in response to the February letter, the guidelines for change will help remove the awkwardness.

Another gesture that senior lawyers especially can do to help normalize the importance of pronunciation is to spell their names for the court even if it is a “simple” name or one frequently heard in the dominant culture. Just like with pronouns, having everyone participate helps dismantle the idea that there is a standard and if someone does not fit it, they are “other” or inconvenient. It is up to all of us to normalize and celebrate diversity. The February letter emphasizes this point by suggesting that judges apply new policies to all participants so as not to single out Indigenous and racialized people.

Nguinambaye means “the Lord binds me” and though this may not be where I find meaning, my name is important to me in that it connects me with my father’s family in Chad. I do use this surname for my ancestors and my living relatives. I also admire the people in my life who have had the courage to revert to their true names after spending years and sometimes decades with anglicized identities. I look forward to continuing to encounter people with their own name stories and origins. I hope you do too and that none of us miss an opportunity to pay respect to that part of someone’s identity.