An ‘elegant' English name would be all wrong for my Hong Kong baby
Months before my daughter arrived, I had chosen for her a Chinese name meaning 'dwell in peace'. The name came from a psalm, for the inexplicable peace I found during pregnancy despite life's circumstances. For her English name, I waited to meet her first.
In Hong Kong, parents tend to put down names in both English and Chinese on the birth certificate, a reflection of our city's official languages. Most local parents either
romanise their child's Chinese name using Jyutping, or choose a Western name – a colonial practice that still echoes through our classrooms and offices. Fortunately, my stepfather insisted on keeping my childhood name, Mimi, arguing that it readily bridges both worlds and thus sparing me an identity struggle.
But my daughter's name called for deeper consideration. Her heritage – a tapestry of Han Chinese, Hui and Yoruba – would shape her identity in a city where racial difference often encounters visible and invisible boundaries.
She arrived after three intense hours of labour, with flushed skin, deep brown eyes and a crown of straight black hair. On her first day, spent in the neonatal intensive care unit, I had time to study her features. When I finally held her, I knew with absolute certainty she was perfect exactly as she was.
'She looks just like you!' was the most common remark from friends. At first, she did. The only hints of melanin were in her dusky cuticles and the upper curves of her ears. Although I joked that God's paintbrush was running dry, I privately wondered if looking more Chinese might make her life easier in Hong Kong.
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