My husband laughed when his boss accidentally called him "Medusa"—but being asked to change your name at work is anything but funny

There were no snakes in my husband’s hair when he’d left for an acting job that morning, but apparently, there were now.

“I introduced myself as Mudassar, but the director has been calling me Medusa for the last two hours,” he tells me down the phone. We have a good laugh about it; this isn’t the first time he’s been called something ridiculous. A few years ago, a man shook his hand with the words, “Mudassar! And you’re Asian! So, I’ll remember that by thinking of Madras!”

We laugh because a director yelling “Good, Medusa, nice work!” across a busy studio is pretty funny. But that night, once we’re curled up on the sofa, my husband sighs and says “I really think I should change my name. Asian actors and comedians always have simple, one-syllable names; Dev (Patel), Riz (Ahmed), Nish (Kumar). I need that too.”

This week, new research by law firm Slater and Gordon has found that nearly one in three ethnic minority employees have been told to adopt a ‘western work name’ by their boss. The study also found that three out of five workers felt their career would suffer if they did not westernise their name.

I’ve been friends with my 2nd generation British-Pakistani husband, Mudassar Dar, for 13 years. I’ve been his girlfriend for 3 of those and his wife for a further 3. From being a teen to an adult, his name has morphed and contorted in time with his life.

The first time we met, he was 15 and introduced himself as Muddy. This is the name his teenage friends had given him, an abbreviation that brought shocked gasps from strangers who presumed it to be a comment on his skin colour. I encouraged him to move away from Muddy after university when he finally admitted to himself (and then to me) that he didn’t actually like the name.

As he entered the workplace, he decided to start introducing himself by his real, full, undiluted name. Muh-dth-ser is the most accurate pronunciation, but blending a ‘d’ with a ‘th’ isn’t a natural sound for English speakers.

As such, Muh-duh-ser, Muh-dah-sa and Muh-de-ser are all passable. Masala, Moo-sasa, Madras, Mufasa and Medusa? These are not—and yet at work he’s been called all of them.

What’s crucial here is that pressuring anyone to change their name at work doesn’t just look like a stern word said in the manager’s office. It looks like not bothering to get the pronunciation right in the first place. In doing so, you’re putting the onus onto the other person as to what comes next. Should they correct you, and risk a long, awkward conversation and embarrassment all around? Highlighting such a misstep could be seen by some an accusation of ignorance, or worst, racism. Employer-employee relationships can be a minefield at the best of times.

It’s an unhappy situation to be in, and one my husband has come home lamenting many times. His amiable, polite nature means he’d rather power on, being referred to by the name of a mythological Greek monster, than make anyone feel stupid.

The irony is that it’s clearly a fear of embarrassment and perceived racism that halts us all from doing what we actually should when we meet an unfamiliar name, or one with an inflection or intonation that is alien to us. And that’s simply asking, politely, for clarity. Something like “I’d really love to get that right; how do I say that please?” will always be met with patience and appreciation.

Young people deserve the same. I tutor several from an ethnic minority background in Leeds, with a charity called CLASSS. This means I’ve seen first-hand how a young person with a non-western name reacts when someone gets it wrong. There is usually a flush of embarrassment and a glance down; if they’re asked to repeat themselves, they tend to mumble. In three years, I’ve only had one very confident boy look me directly in the eye when I’ve asked him for a clear, slow pronunciation. His Eritrean name is Yesani, pronounced Yeh-sah-ne—emphasis on the ‘sah’. His self-assuredness is something I wish I could grant to the others who’ve gone before and will come after. A core part of your identity should never make you break eye contact.

Actress Uzo Aduba has spoken in an interview about a conversation she had as a child with her mother, in which she told her, “If they can learn to say Tchaikovsky and Michelangelo and Dostoyevsky, they can learn to say Uzoamaka.”  Surnames can be a point of contention too. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez has previously tweeted, “My last name is Ocasio-Cortez. Full stop. That’s my name. No, you can’t say ‘Cortez.’ I’ve never used that in my life.” This research supports what both women, and my husband, have all been saying to be true all along.

So what can those of us with familiar, Western names do? Being an ally doesn’t just mean taking the time to learn a new name when you come across it. It means encouraging colleagues, employees and loved ones to keep the name they were given (if that’s what they want). Names are our identity, and just as we shouldn’t adjust our sexuality, or religion, or favourite ice-cream flavour for others, we shouldn’t have to change our names either.

Mudassar was his parents’ first son, and his name was chosen by his now late Grandfather, who read it in the Quran and thought it was beautiful. It was given to him with an inordinate amount of love and affection. If Mudassar wants or needs to change his name down the line, I’ll support that. But I hope he doesn’t.

Even more than that, I hope that with increasing cultural awareness will come a greater respect for names. It is our responsibility to push aside shyness, awkwardness or panic when faced with one we don’t yet know and give names—and the people they belong to—the respect they deserve.

Also, if you’re unsure, maybe don’t just go plough away with the name of an evil gargoyle. Just an idea.