The Accidental Foreigner
Character Creation: Changing Names
Changing a name is a lengthy and paper-laden process in the United States. There’s filling out and filing court paperwork, notifying Social Security, taking a trip down to the dreaded Department of Motor Vehicles, then going through each and every mundane aspect of life that is connected to a name, like insurance policies, utility bills, credit card statements, and lease agreements. This seems inefficient in an era of “cut and paste,” and I can see why more and more American women choose to keep their maiden names.
Like the chicken-and-egg conundrum, are names considered sacred in Western society and therefore the laws around changing them are purposely made complicated? Or is it because the laws are complicated that made Western societies revere names? Whatever the case, names in the Western world last forever and can either bless or shackle a person to an identity. Using a pseudonym or remaining anonymous is rare and regarded as being overly cryptic, intimating that the person harbors an unsavory history. In fact, I struggled with whether to use a pseudonym or revealing my name on these essays. On the one hand, the purpose of a personal essay is to reveal a person, and using a fake name would defeat that; on the other hand, the Internet is savage. Obviously, I chose the former, but I still run the risk of having my name besmirched by potential misquotations and taking things out of context.
Surprisingly, a person can change their name in Taiwan with relative ease per the country’s Name Act. The Act presents two scenarios and conditions in which a person may change their name — one where a person can change their name as many times as needed because it is necessary, and the other where a person may change their name for a total of three times because they want to. For the unlimited and necessary option, a person has to have a name that is exactly the same as that of a criminal’s, or exactly the same as a co-worker’s that could cause confusion, or exactly the same as a third-degree relative, etc. The “because you want to” option is for those who wish to change their name because they find their name “unflattering” or for “other special considerations.” All it takes to change a name is putting together a few documents and up to two trips to the local Household Registration Agency, one to drop off the documents, and the other to pick up your newly minted identification card.
One of the reasons why name changes are so common in Taiwan is the large role fortune tellers play in Taiwanese society. Fortune tellers consult on any and every aspect of life, including the mundane, such as placement of furniture in the home and whether your telephone number will bring in a steady stream of business. Similarly, they can consult a person on how to make their name more auspicious or a recommend a completely new name. Names are judged auspicious by the number of strokes it takes to write, how well the characters in the given name harmonize with the surname, the sounds of each character and their literal and implied meanings, etc. Because of the myriad of homophones in Mandarin and Taiwanese and over 50,000 characters in written Chinese to choose from, the justifications a fortune teller can give is potentially limitless.
I see that same optimism towards naming when local Taiwanese explain how they gave themselves their “Western” name (which simply means a name that can be written out with the Roman alphabet). Of course, there is the practicality of adopting a Western name, especially when communicating with the non-Mandarin speaking world for studies or business purposes. However, adopting a Western name gives local Taiwanese an opportunity to highlight their best qualities or completely adopt a new persona. Some choose their names from people they admire in the hopes to adopt the values or mannerisms of their namesake. Others choose their names based on how cool/unique/sophisticated/etc. the name sounds, hoping that others will view them as cool/unique/sophisticated/etc., too. A few go through Western names like dogs go through chew toys before settling. Several have adopted certain Western names because they were popular for their time.*
I see changing my English name pointless, and even if I wanted to, inertia would take over because it’s too much work. However, because my Chinese/Japanese name is so complicated, some have asked whether I intend to change it. I don’t have any particular characters in mind to use, and I feel funny about handing over money to someone whose services are out-of-this-world intangible. I like the convoluted story connected to my name, and without it, I wouldn’t have a personal essay to write. I also don’t believe that changing a name causes a person to have better luck. Rather, the cause-and-effect flows the other way — a person has to adopt a changed mindset before deciding to change their name. With the way my life has played out so far, I have made ground breaking changes to my life practically on whims, and Taiwan’s Name Act wouldn’t be able to accommodate how often I readjust.
Western names don’t fall under the same rubric as Chinese names, so I don’t fault or judge people who go to fortune tellers for new names — fortune telling acts as a safety valve in a brutally fatalistic world. Generally speaking, Taiwanese culture presumes that everyone has a “proper place” in society, from the national community down to the nuclear family, and these roles are doled out by Fate. If someone bucks their proscribed role, society (and all of its subparts) will run amok; ergo, as long as everyone plays their part, society will run harmoniously. Fortune tellers act as mediators between humans and Fate, divining what it would take to change Fate’s mind and re-order society. No wonder fortune tellers rake in a bunch of money.
However you view names and their relationship to the world at large, let’s all take a minute to thank whomever/whatever that we are not this poor soul, fictional she may be: Esty Dee from the Japanese role playing game franchise Atelier.
While the Japanese text lists her name as Esty Erhard, it’s clear that the English localization team took generous liberties with her English name. I would suspect that she wishes to visit a fortune teller in the very near future.
*For a time, Taiwanese women called themselves “April,” rivaling the Kaylees and Haileys of the Western world. “R” sounds in general are hard on native Mandarin and Taiwanese speaking tongues, so instead of “April” as we know it in its Standard English pronunciation, Taiwanese women pronounce it akin to “Apple.” Except…it’s not really pronounced “apple,” because when you learn your ABCs, it’s “Ey”BC. Thus, there is a spate of women calling themselves “Ey-pple” here.
