“Order for Teeg?” “Tigbar, right?” “ohh beer…like the drink?”
These are just a few of the common mispronunciations or misconceptions that I have heard about my name when placing an order or introducing myself to someone. Whether it’s due to the length or the appearance of sounds and letter combinations typically not found in English, many ethnic/foreign names present an understandable challenge to some people. Although these are often honest mistakes due to a lack of familiarity, hearing your own name said or written in uniquely incorrect ways becomes off putting, to say the least. Unfortunately, in order to avoid these mistakes, I myself have become accustomed to mispronouncing my own name by using English phonetics -“Tegbeer”- or simply replacing it with a nickname – “Teg” for short – instead of the authentic Punjabi pronunciation -“Thayghbir”.
According to Sikh tradition, names are chosen in a ceremony where a granthi (priest) selects a passage from the Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji (Sikh Holy Book) at random. The first letter of the first word in the passage is designated as the first letter of the child’s name. From there, a name is chosen by the parents from a list they might have had in mind. Therefore, Sikh names have a deeply spiritual origin and are considered to be divinely ordained. As such, they are more than a simple identifying factor and carry a powerful message. For example, my name, Tegbir, is based on the name of the 9th Sikh Guru, Teg Bahadur Ji. “Teg” is a type of sword that was used by Sikh warriors and “Bir” means “brave.”
Reflecting on the deliberate manner with which my name has been assigned and the divine figure whom it refers to has motivated me to be more conscious of how I saw my own name. While mispronunciations are understandable, using a nickname or adopting the “easier” way to say a name fails to address the cause of the issue. Furthermore, altering names that are inspired by historical figures disrespects their memory. Although I have become used to saying and hearing the English pronunciation of my name, I never tried to correct it either because I simply assumed most people would struggle with pronouncing it correctly. To save myself an awkward moment, I often choose to not introduce myself properly. However, by hiding my identity or changing it to please the dominant culture who is unaware of its mistake, I’m doing a disservice not only to my own tradition, but to others that would benefit from learning about these differences.
Perpetuating this lack of knowledge around unfamiliar names undermines the tradition and subdues the meaning that our names carry. Mispronunciations and misspellings don’t just change the sound, they also detract from the meaning. My name is more than a word or a title. It is a core part of my identity that is based deeply in tradition and spirituality and serves as a source of recognition and direction. As a result, I aim to make a more conscious effort to pronounce my name correctly and encourage others to embrace the awkward moment of working through the sounds in order to stay true to our culture and make it more commonplace. I feel honored to have been blessed with such a powerful name and will strive to uphold its honor.