Desi Manifesto Blog: The Forum for South Asian American Men

The “Foreign Face” and those who fight against it.

[Blogger: S.I.] The last couple months, I’ve been making a concerted effort to get out of the house and away from work, meet people, and socialize. Getting to know some of the people of LA. On the whole, it’s gone quite well, I’ve made some new friends, contacts, etc.

But one part of the social milieu that’s often overlooked by most Westerners can in fact be a make-or-break point for people like us: the introduction.

Our hero, S.I., and Random Girl have been speaking for a few minutes. Amiable conversation.

S.I.: “Hey, what’s your name, by the way?”

Random Girl: “It’s Random Girl.”

S.I.: “Nice to meet you Random Girl. I’m (insert my easy-to-say Indian name here. Not the easiest ever, but definitely on the easy side).

Random Girl: “Uh…”

He watches in horror as her expression contorts into the “Foreign Face.” Her eyes crinkle, her upper lip sneers, her teeth show, her brows furrow, and her tongue is at the ready, should it need to roll, flip, or click.

Random Girl (shrugging with delayed head nod in anticipation): “(Insert mauled remains of my name here)?? (Insert variation of my name’s mauled remains here)???”

S.I. (defeated smile): “You can just call me (insert monosyllabic American version of my name here).”

The conversation was never the same again.

Probably familiar for many of you. But for those not in the know, please refer to the leading image of this post.

You see, when non-Indian people try to pronounce any Indian names, they begin by making this face, fully expecting unprecedented levels of “foreignness” from “them.” Much like a seatbelt, it’s the only safe way to begin this magical journey to lands unknown. The Foreignologist on the right attempts to explain the complex structures of my name. He encounters little success.

Nonetheless, as excruciating as this exercise may be, I’ve discovered multiple bits of knowledge one can glean from the person massacring my name.

INTELLIGENCE. But not in the way you think. Contrary to popular opinion, I often find it’s the dumbest people who get my name right with ease. Perhaps because the smarter we are, the more we try to associate a name with what we know (or think we know) about a place, the people, the languages, and the sounds. If you’re poorly edified, no such factors creep into your mind.

On the whole, from my experience, those who hover around average intelligence are the worst, because they just can’t conquer the little bit they do know in order to say my name properly.

This often leads to drawn out sessions with me explaining that my name is comprised of two sounds that exist in English, neither of which has the “ee” noise, followed by them consistently inserting “ee” and just changing which syllable is stressed.

WORLDLINESS. Much can be revealed not in the pronunciation of my name, but rather in the conversation that immediately follows.

Comments such as “That’s a strange name,” or “How weird” or “My tongue’s all twisted just saying that” are not positive signs. When people say it’s “different,” at best it might be a girl flirting with you. Probably not.

But when people ask “What kind of a name is that,” or “What ethnicity are you” (the homeless cousin of which is “Where are you from?”), it shows a higher level of thinking. For me at least, I warm up to the conversation more because I feel like maybe this person will be able to understand my POV a bit.

And sometimes, you’ll hear “I have a lot of Indian friends,” or “I know people with that name,” or something else indicating that this cat is, if not an Indophile, at least down with brown to some extent.

That’s more than you can ask for. Unless it’s a white guy saying, “Oh yeah, I used to date this hot Indian girl.”

Actually, that’s a lot more than I ever asked for.

DO THEY CARE ABOUT YOU? Generally, if they don’t care about your name, they really don’t care about you. Most normal people will at least make a couple attempts. The people who like you as a person (or at least respect their own intelligence) will make multiple attempts to get it right. Those who are into other cultures will make an effort with the various inflections and nuances of a name.

And in LA, the ones who don’t care about you will simply hear your name, muster half a nod, and go on talking.

To someone else.

FETISH. You say your name. She tries to pronounce it delicately, or maybe she forgoes saying it again and proceeds right to asking you to say it one more time, leaning in with her eyes wide as saucers.

You oblige, and she smiles and says, “That’s a beautiful name.”

Welcome to the fetish. For once, the curry fever works in our favor. Not that you should ever have hid from your Indianness, but at least now, you can embrace the brown to a greater extent, perhaps revealing more esoteric parts of the culture to maximum effect. This may be the only time where doing impressions of your father actually could get you in good with a girl (or even laid). Use them, but be judicious (respect for one’s elders is a trait of your exotic and sexually appealing culture, after all).

So talk nerdy to her and satiate her need for spice.

Sometimes it’s not what’s in a name, but rather what’s around it, that counts.