Being the girl whose name is always mispronounced feels like being both seen and unseen at the same time.
Your name, the first gift your parents gave you, becomes a hurdle in every classroom roll call, job interview, and coffee order. You learn to pause, smile politely, and correct—softly, awkwardly—or let it slide to keep things moving. Sometimes it feels like shrinking just a little to make space for someone else’s comfort. Sometimes you laugh it off, but inside you wonder why it’s so hard for people to try.
It’s not about being difficult—it’s about being heard the way you were meant to be. Your name holds history, culture, love. You don’t want it mangled, shortened, or swapped for something more “manageable.” You want what everyone wants: to be called like you matter.
