Hi! My Name Is...

“Hello. Nice to meet you.”

“Hi. A pleasure. And your name is…?”

“Umm…you can call me HJ.”

“HJ?”



What?!

 

The brows wrinkled in confusion, the slightly dilated pupils, the expression of consternation. I’ve seen them numerous times, yet I still seem to be unable to get used to them.

“Yes, HJ. I use my initials, you see.”

“Oh…”

     In such a situation, the majority of people I know don’t have to encounter the wrinkled brows, the enlarged pupils, and whatever signs that might accompany bewilderment. Rather, they continue a normal conversation, discussing the latest blockbuster movie, their favorite female singer, and the awkward moment they had faced when some eccentric guy told them his initials when asked his name. This majority of people have something in common: they call themselves Charles, John, George, or whatsoever when talking to an English speaker.

     In contrast, I’m HJ. I’m that “eccentric” guy that doesn’t even have an English name in this globalized, modern world. However, I wasn’t always HJ, and what’s more, there’s a good reason as to why I don’t adopt an English name now. There was a time when I was called Larry, Michael, and even Stanley.

     I got my first English name when I was about 6 or 7, when I entered kindergarten. I attended a kindergarten school that can be said to be quite atypical - an English kindergarten, in which there were a considerable – as I recall – number of bilingual foreign teachers who were fluent in Korean and English. There were regular sessions when students were required to speak a substantial amount of, if not all, their normal conversations in English. If I remember correctly, an English name was mandatory for all students. So my parents strove to devise me an English name, and out of their box of English names popped up ‘Larry.’ So I became Larry for the 3 or 4 hours I spent outside my home. I don’t know why they chose this particular name for me and nor have I ever thought of asking them the reason, but one thing is for sure. I despised the name. I hated its ring. I detested the way the tongue brushed the inside of the front teeth at the ‘L’ and coiled up into my throat at the ‘rr.’ Most of all, I loathed the fact that it was a two syllable word, and yet was only five letters. But what was done was done – I could not go to my kindergarten teacher and tell her, in my young and feeble vocabulary and pronunciation, “Teecher, I change me name.” So I stayed Larry for five years until I had a chance to change it.



Phelps - He's a Michael...



     The chance came when I was third grade of my elementary school. It was decided that I would go abroad to Toronto for two years with my mother in order to learn English. I was asked if I want to maintain my old English name, and said no without a moment’s hesitation. I had been greatly inspired by a short biography of the legendary basketball player Michael Jordan I had read a few days ago, so I announced that I would be Michael. I lived for two years with this name. However, I was far from satisfied. During my stay in Toronto, I encountered many Michaels and developed an image conveyed by the name: a burlesque, masculine and coarse figure, an impression I was certain did not fit me. I decided to drop the name as soon as I could.

     When I came back to my home country and started attending English hakwons, the first thing they asked me was what my English name was. A million names went through my head for a split second when I was asked the question – Leopold, Nathaniel, Josiah, Tobias, and other posh names that I am embarrassed to even write down. Then I gave up trying to choose one of them, and said, “No, I don’t.” A short conversation ensued.

“Well, do you want to make one right now?”

“Uh…”

“If you don’t want to, you can use your initials instead. In fact, there’s a kid in your class called JH.”

“Ah…Then I’ll just use my initials, HJ.”

To be clear, I didn’t resort to ‘HJ’ because there was a guy in my class with a pseudonym name. I guess I was simply tired of searching for an English name that fits my image. Several years later, my friends named me Stanley for a few months, but I refused to be called by that name, and the name found its way to oblivion.

     So I don’t have an English name. Does it matter? I don’t think so. If the concept of name was first devised by our ancient, less-than-human ancestors who were more Pan troglodytes than Homo sapiens¸ it would have been to identify each other with auditory organs. This primitive concept of names would have developed gradually to signify and represent the person who holds that name – the personality, character, and other traits. If this is true, then I am Lee Hwee-Jun, and nobody else. ‘Lee Hwee-Jun’ is the name that has stayed with me for 18 years since birth, and thus there is no name that is more ‘me.’ So if an English name only serves the purpose of being easy to pronounce for English speaking people who just can’t imagine how to create that ‘Hwee’ sound, then I think that HJ suffices.

Homo Sapiens - a.k.a.



 

Pan troglodytes - a.k.a Common Chimpanzee



    

     One of my favorite books, I shamefully confess, was the fantasy trilogy ‘The Bartimaeus Trilogy.’ In the third book of the series, the main character, a djinni (a spirit from another dimension) says that in that dimension, all beings are one, but that when a magician calls their name, the ultimate limit, it restricts them from an infinite being to a finite one. A similar concept is discussed in the poem ‘Flower,’ written by a renowned Korean poet, Kim Chun-soo. According to both, a name defines a person. I am defined fully by my Korean name. Whatever others say about my ‘English name’ and however they view me, I have no intention to create an English name for me in the near future and more until I change my mind.