When I went to Australia, I did something that I have wanted to do all my life, but always failed to take the chances I had: I changed my first name. Not legally or anything – I merely gave everyone I met in Australia my second name instead of my first name, thus they addressed me by my second name. Why would anyone do that, you ask? It’s simple: I have hated my first name ever since I became consciously aware of what an old-fashioned, stupid name it is. In German, it rhymes with a lot of bad things. Therefore, I was bullied because of my name throughout primary and secondary school. It turned me into an introverted, extremely shy person. There was a time when I couldn’t even speak my own name because I hated it so much. Eventually I got (mostly) over it and accepted it as I grew older. But I suppose a scar remains where there once was a gaping wound, and my name has been robbing me of self-confidence ever since I can think.

Australia would have further complicated my situation: my first name is extremely German, and pretty much unpronounceable for anyone who doesn’t speak German. Also, in Australia my (written) first name is a word for a car/truck. Though it sounds completely different, that’s just way too weird. So I decided to simplify my life and gave everyone I met in Australia my easy-to-pronounce second name, which has no weird meanings in any language I know of. In fact, it is quite a common name throughout Indo-European languages, I suppose due to its religious origins. I’m not too happy about the religious connection, but oh well, gotta work with what I got, can’t have everything…

I suppose I could have invented a completely new name for myself – as most Chinese people in Australia do. They usually have a Chinese name, but choose some sort of similar sounding English name just to make things easier for Australians. During my horrible (name-wise) childhood, I have often thought about what I would like to be called. There were a few names I really liked, but somehow they just never seemed very ‘me’. Can I look in a mirror and call myself a name that is not my name? It seemed weird. A long time later, on the internet, I invented a fake name for myself which I use when I don’t want to give my real name: Ada. This is surprisingly similar to my actual first name. It is also surprisingly similar to my internet alias. It’s very simple and very international, but still… it doesn’t seem quite right to be called this in real life. Does it?

Using a name that is technically also one of my legal names was much easier. I regret that I have not seized the opportunity to actually make that change earlier – before Australia; I had a chance when I quit my job and started studying at university in German. But somehow, I had completely forgotten about it. I’m getting older, and having mostly accepted this stupid-ass name, I usually don’t really care anymore. But I also always planned to go abroad for a semester, and I knew that my name is totally incompatible with non-German-speaking countries. My own American relatives can’t pronounce it. Australians might have done a better job – they’re pretty savvy with foreign languages. But why bother when you can just choose the easy way?

I became very used to my ‘new’ name in Australia. People called me by it, I answered, everybody was happy. No introductions with “How do you pronounce that?” followed by ten repetitions which were bound to be butchered anyway. Eventually, I got so used to my second name that it felt weird to be called by my first name. I found myself in a very strange place: on the one side were my German friends who only know me by my German name, on the other side were my Australian friends who address me by my second name. Trying to merge both groups to one name would be strange; I wouldn’t really feel comfortable if my German friends, who I’ve know for a long time, would suddenly call me by my second name. However, I kind of would prefer if new people I meet would call me by my second name, but I see how that could be weird and problematic in Germany.

From this experience, I have learned that I was a much happier, much more easy-going person in Australia: without my first name, all the subconscious burdens of the past were lifted. Speaking English was the icing on the cake; I seem to be a much friendlier person when I’m speaking English. And let’s not forget the fact that I was surrounded by heaps of much friendlier, much more easy-going people.

To end this rambly blog post, here’s what the Immigration Museum in Melbourne, Australia has to say on the topic:
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