Diversity Anonymous

“Hi, my name is Upasana. I’m six and half years old, and my favorite color is purple,” I said as I introduced myself to my new first grade class. As usual, I was greeted back with thirty confused faces. Apparently, my name was too complex for my teacher too, who continued to call me different variations such as “Upsana, Upanasa, and Upastana.”. After a couple weeks, my teacher asked me if she could just use a nickname for me instead of blundering my name everyday. I shrugged and said I didn’t care. Throughout all of elementary, middle, and most of high school, I dreaded first days of schools and substitute teachers, because I would have to go through the tiresome process of explaining how to pronounce my name at least five times before people got it. Ooh-pah-suh-nah. Easy right?

After the first day of ninth grade, I came home frustrated and asked my mom why she named me Upasana instead of something common and simple like Jessica, Kate, or Ashley. My mom explained how for months before I was born, my parents searched for a name that would suit me and how a friend who was a teacher inspired the name. Through her twenty-two years of teaching, she had one exceptional student who stood out to her. This student not only excelled in...