Throughout this article, we got the chance to take a look at Nguyen’s back and forth with categorization, how it affected her from the time she was in grade school throughout her professional career. For most of the article, Nguyen seemed prideful in her “unique” name, not letting the opinion of others really affect her. However, as she grew older and endured years and years of similar abuse, she eventually chose to reject the label of her name and the categories it placed her in.
Nguyen did this by calling herself “Beth” instead of “Bich” in all public situations. She writes about the feeling of the first time she rejected that categorization:
One day, a few years ago, at the Shake Shack in Madison Square Park, a woman behind the counter took my order and asked the dreaded question of my name, and I said, “Beth.” She nodded. She did not doubt my answer. And, in that moment, it felt real: I wasn’t just saying Beth—I was Beth. So I started to say it more. To salespeople. To babysitters, electricians, new acquaintances, new colleagues. I’d say Beth, and a tiny blast of joy, like cool air from the refrigerator on a hot day, would come over me. Like a secret self. Like another life.
Obviously there are benefits to what Beth Nguyen chose to do for herself. She continues to write about how life in America is easier with an American name, saving herself and her children from the judgment and uncomfort of using her birth name. I guess there is only so much one can take in the sense that having to use your own name daily hurts to a certain extent, going through the transition to beth and even giving her children popular American names will save them all from pain and categorization.
This however made me wonder a couple of things. I was born in New York, grew up in a public education system and my name was even the most common baby name for boys in 2022 so obviously I cannot begin to relate to what Beth went through. But I can’t help but wonder, Does change like this result in Nguyen losing that feeling of pride of using her traditional name? Beth seems to question her disconnect with her ancestry, and does not change her name on legal documents. Beth suggests that the name “Beth” might be temporary, a little break from the scrutiny and categorization. I wonder if she will ever find that sense of pride in her name again, using it full time or if she will come accustomed to the easier name.
