And no, I’m not going to do a review of the homonymous film (though I did recently watch it and I really liked it, so I would in fact recommend it, unless you’re a homophobe).
I recently read this BBC article and I so felt for Bilal, so I want to share my own similar experience.
My full given name is Argyro. In Greek: Αργυρώ. The silver one (obviously wasn’t good enough for gold!). As per usual in Mediterranean countries, I was named after my paternal grandmother; it wasn’t even an option for a different name, that’s just how things are done back home.
How to pronounce Argyro? Ar-whee-ró – with accent/intonation on the O (weirdly, the lady pronouncing the name in the video sounds A LOT like me, but sadly it’s not me). Common pronounciations by English speakers: Ar-GHEE-ro (hate it), Ar-JY-ro (hate EVEN MORE). Ar-jAi-ro (no words for the wrath). ANYTHING apart from the correct one. In the rarest of cases that someone (usually a foreigner) does it right, I don’t even recognise it any more.
Argyro is not exactly a common name, even back home. It’s very topical in Crete and in a couple other places; so much so, that you can tell where one originates from. We have things like that everywhere in Greece, it’s pretty common. And I’m from Crete, in case you’re wondering.
We all hated my name. My mother because it reminded her of her mother in law, who she never had a good relationship with. I, because it’s SOOOO oldfashioned and, despite the 2 Rs, doesn’t exactly roll on the tongue. And, due to its rarity, no one remembers when my name day is and that used to upset me. What’s a name day? A saint day. If your name is George, 23rd April is your name day. Mine is 30th April. Why? Ask the priest who baptised me, he picked it. So it was immediately shortened to Iro. Ηρώ in greek. Which is also a standalone name, albeit an even rarer one. One originating in Ancient Greece, with a tragic love story behind it. No one has ever called me by my full name – apart from one teacher when I was 14. Who was my English teacher at school, funnily enough. But she had such a regal way of pronouncing it that she actually made it sound cool. Usually, if someone does use it, I don’t realise they’re addressing me, that’s how bad it is.
When I started learning english, at the ripe age of 9, I went by “Iro” and thought that’d be ok. We (=my mum) briefly toyed with the idea of “Silvia” (from silver, geddit?) but it was dropped and never mentioned again. Later, at 12, when I started learning French, I added an accent point to it: Iró. I started using that in English too cos it looked cool (such a pretentious thing to do!). I came to the UK in 2002 and immediately saw the problem with Iro (or Iró): A-y-ro, Ee-ro, ANYTHING to prevent the Brits from intonating on the ultima (=the last syllable of a word). They can’t, they simply cannot. I thought it was the Brits, but actually it’s all english speaking countries. Germans, Dutch, French, Italians, Spaniards, Scandinavians, Indians, Japanese, Chinese: I know people from all these countries and they can ALL pronounce Iro. But not the Brits.
Shortly after I came here, I happened to watch Much ado about nothing. And, guess what? There’s a Hero in there, which the subtitles informed me is Iro. EPIPHANY! I became Hero overnight. I thought, slam dunk, this is Shakespeare, the Brits MUST know it, right?
Wrong. No one does. Even when an English darling of a celebrity, Myleene Klass, named her daughter Hero, that hasn’t helped either. Most people think it’s a nickname. Like a superhero or something. A lot, following from the success of the tv series “Heroes” thought it was like Hiro. Who is Japanese. And a man. Plenty of funny stories of people phoning me and falling silent when they realise I’m NOT a man (some were even mildly disappointed). I get a lot of people singing to my face “Holding out for a hero” by Bonnie Tyler. “Hero” by Mariah Carey (and then a hero comes along with a strength to carry on) and the same by Enrique Inglesias (I can be your hero baby, I can kiss away the pain) are also strong favourites. Sadly, David Bowie’s “Heroes” is hardly ever on the playlist. It was funny the first couple of times; now it’s just boring, lacks originality and gets on my nerves.
It’s served me well, Hero has. It’s unique and memorable – there’s not many around so it sticks to your mind. In a job that it’s hard to standout within the industry, if I were a Jane, no one would remember me. On the other hand, there’s times when you want to be forgotten. You want to reset things, start again with some people – but who forgets a hero?
I’ve had to drop Hero in favour of something non descript – I’ve become Debs. On dating apps. I wasn’t getting many matches as Hero, whereas Debs has more chances. Whether it is that people thought it’s a nickname or a made-up one or if it’s just that Debs has other connotations, I don’t know. I certainly had plenty of lewd opening comments to force me to change it. Why Debs? I don’t quite know – I use Deborah/Debbie/Debs at the occasional coffee shops that ask for my name as I’m sick and tired of getting “Keria/Heri” (that’s another greek joke here, sorry) and whatever other permutation they can think of (I’m pretty convinced Starbucks do this on purpose for social media gains, but anyway).
I have forgotten how it is to be Iro. I go back home and not realise people are talking to me when they use Iro. I am so confused as to who I am. It’s just a name, and yet so important to who I am. It’s the very epitome of my overall confusion. I don’t belong anywhere – I’m no longer Greek, I’ve not lived there in 17 years. Yet, I’m not British either; I don’t have the nationality and, since the referendum, I feel less and less welcomed here.
It’s just 3 little letters. THREE LETTERS. How can 3 letters cause so much hassle? Imagine if I were called Afroxylanthi (yes, that’s a Greek joke).
So – shall I do a name deed? What should I be called instead? Give me options, I’ll do a poll and put it to public vote. Can’t be worse than Hero.
Heroic blabbing 