A Dot By Any Other Name Would Smell As Bacon-y

“So how would you feel if I never took your name?” I ask Jay over dinner.

“I support whatever you do and I’ll be okay with whatever you decide,” a diplomatic Jay answers.

I’ve been thinking about my name after the case of mistaken identity and passing off as a Holland.

I told Jay that in Singapore, it’ll be very unusual for me to be a “Holland” or him, a “Ho.” It’s just the way stereotypes and perceptions work.

I mean, how many Asians do you know have ang-moh last names? Or an ang-moh with an Asian name? At least in Singapore? But here, there are far more mixed kids or adopted families that you can never assume what people look like vis-a-vis their last names.

I’ve always written under the name “Dorothy Ho,” and besides, when I introduce myself as Dorothy Ho, it reflects my cultural identity to a certain extent, and I’m proud of that.

I know very few Singaporean Chinese women who change their names after marriage. I think part of it is that no one really cares, and the other part is, it’s unheard of to change your Chinese name and mix and match your Chinese given name with your spouse’s Chinese surname.

The creation of a Chinese name is a complex algorithm of number of strokes, and sounds, and characters. Right?

Jay and I pondered the implications of various permutations and hyphenated last names, and decided, at the end of the day, it matters only if you make it matter.

It could have been worse—if he was a “Pimpin’” and I was a “Ho,” imagine what our kids’ last names could be.