My name is Helena, or “Huh-leen-ah” if you want the pronunciation. My name isn’t “Helen-a” or “Huh-lane-na” or any other sort of weird combination of pronunciations that I’ve heard in my twenty-one years of life.
The first days of school or days where I knew there would be a substitute were essentially my worst nightmares. I knew that the teacher would pause when they got to my name, say it incorrectly, and then I would have to correct them while turning roughly fourteen different shades of pink. I hate correcting people on the pronunciation of my own name. It’s my name and I hate having to tell people that they’re wrong, because truthfully, I know that they tried.
I actually went about seven years without correcting anyone at my karate dojo. I took karate for seven years and finally corrected them in the last year. The entire dojo said my name wrong and I felt too bad to correct them… about my own name.
I can’t begin to explain the loathing that I felt for every souvenir shop. Every little boy and little girl had a cute mug, keychain, t-shirt, (the list could go on) with their name on it. They didn’t need to have any merchandise specially ordered for them (thanks, dad!). They found it in the store. I wanted to grab a mug with my name on it so badly. To this day, I still get excited when I see a “Helen” keychain; to me, that’s close enough.
I know that I deserve to have my name pronounced correctly. It has importance behind it. My parents chose it because it was my maternal grandma’s name. My grandma waited so long for my parents to decide to have a baby, so when my mom found out I was a girl, she decided I would be named after my grandma. My Slovakian great-grandparents immigrated to America and had a baby girl who was then named Helena, but they pronounced her name “Helen-a” or Helen with an “a” at the end.
My mom always instilled in me the importance of loving my name. It was a family name that was full of love and memories, but oh how I just wanted to be a “Beth” or an “Emily.” I spent so many years wishing that I could just wake up with an easier to pronounce name. I had people, mostly older people which felt like a big deal to an eight-year-old, tell me that my name was beautiful. To me, it didn’t feel beautiful when everyone around me couldn’t even say it right.
You deserve to have your name pronounced right. It may feel difficult to tell someone “That’s not how my name is pronounced,” but think of your family choosing that name specifically for you. They saw you and knew that your name fits just right, like a good shirt from Target. Be loud and be proud of your name! However, if you see me at Starbucks saying my middle name, Ashley, don’t judge me!