Say My Name: Inclusivity at Middlesex

When our school prides itself on diversity, why do so many students still feel invisible because of their names?

What’s in a name? 

Culture, identity, history. A name is not just a label. It’s often the first thing someone learns about you, and the simplest way to acknowledge a person’s individuality. 

Whether through diversity statistics on the website, flags proudly lining our dining hall, or the growing number of affinity groups on campus, Middlesex presents itself as a community that values DEI. But inclusion, the last—but certainly not least important—component of DEI, is not measured by only what we display. It is shown through how we treat others in the most ordinary, everyday actions. Starting with their names. 

I have been mistaken for Dr. Wu more times than I can count. Over the course of my two and a half years at Middlesex, the mailroom has repeatedly sent me mail addressed to her. Imagine the surprise when I opened my mailbox one day in freshman year and pulled an envelope containing all her credit card information, along with a poster about NASA. 

Somehow, students too would email me with reports about lost calculators or panicked 2 am requests to move a test. At first, I found it funny. I would reply politely to explain that I was not Dr. Wu, and they would quickly apologize—or sometimes not. But as email after email popped up, it quickly became offensive. When they typed “Wu” into the email search box, I wondered if they had any idea who they were emailing, or if they simply clicked the first name that appeared. Someone with the last name Wu would do. Close enough, I guess. 

This is not just my experience. In a recent poll I conducted for students affiliated with affinity groups, 35% mention that teachers and students mispronounce or misremember their names at least once a week, while 55% experience this once or twice per month.

It’s easy to dismiss mispronunciation or miscalling as a small mistake. People shrug and apologize, “Sorry, I’m bad with names.” But when that “small mistake” happens repeatedly, especially after correction, it stops being a mistake. In my poll, 60% of students reported finding it annoying when someone repeatedly calls them the wrong name. 35% also express that it felt genuinely hurtful. 

Psychologists describe this as name-based microaggressions: a subtle, often unintentional behavior that communicates exclusion, particularly toward people whose names carry a cultural difference. Indeed, there is a tendency to treat White European names as normative, whereas names from other backgrounds can be seen as inconvenient. Over time, students learn that it is easier to alter their names. That is part of the reason why many East Asian students have an Anglo-European name in addition to their legal name. “Jessica” is much easier to pronounce than “Yuhan.” From experience, easier names are often rewarded with smoother interactions. Still, even with this adjustment, I have still been called the wrong name even by people I’ve known at this school for years. 

Around 70% in my poll responded that they have corrected people for calling them the wrong name, but even after the correction, not much changed. Most mentioned that students and teachers continued mispronouncing their names immediately after corrections. The remaining students stated that they refrained from pointing out this problem to offenders because “they’re likely not going to remember anyways.”

What makes name-based microaggressions so damaging is the burden placed on the person being misnamed. They are expected to correct the error patiently, again and again, without complaints. If they express frustration, they are in danger of being labeled as “sensitive” or “difficult.” Even though people would agree this is obviously unfair, this expectation still holds a tight grasp over everyday social interactions here at Middlesex. 

This article is not an attack on anyone. Everyone is bound to mispronounce a name at some point. But the issue is what follows after the first mistake. Do we try again? Do we listen? Do we care enough to remember? On veracross, students can upload audio recordings of their own names, and teachers have access to pronunciation guides. Inclusion begins with the awareness to see someone not as a generalization of skin or hair color, but as an individual. 

So next time, say our names. And make the effort to remember them. 

image from: MX website

Jessica Wu '27