I’ve been bullied over my name all my life – but I refuse to change it

I didn’t change my name because I didn’t want the racist bullies to win (Picture: Yashi Banymadhub) ‘Your name’s got s**t in it,’ goaded one of my best friends. We were 14 and on a school trip in Normandy; five girls sharing a room. It should have been a treat – but hearing those words, the ugly pink walls closed in on me. This wasn’t the first taunt I’d received about my name, Yashita. I’d had it thrown in my face by jeering classmates plenty of times. This time, it was intended to bring me down a peg. One of the other girls had complimented my figure and my so-called best friend – we’ll call her Rachel* – couldn’t handle it. ‘That’s rude!’ said the girl who had given me the compliment. ‘Isn’t that rude?’ Ask Metro Use AI to go deeper into the stories you care about – powered by Metro and trusted publications. I shrugged and said nothing. Rachel was prone to mood swings, and her approval mattered. So, despite being on a getaway with friends, I went back to feeling like I often did at school: like I had a target on my back. Like most Mauritians, I had multiple names – a formal one and a family one. I was Yashita at school, and this was also the name on my birth certificate; but I’d always been Neerma at home. I was ‘Mim’ to my mum. I’d had my name thrown in my face by jeering classmates plenty of times (Picture: Yashi Banymadhub) Hearing the taunts from my peers was bad enough but my P.E. teacher joined in (Picture: Yashi Banymadhub) When I came to the UK, not even 10 years old yet, I soon realised that no one could (or would even try to) pronounce Neerma. So I stopped using it – even though it was the name I most identified with – and suggested people use Yashita instead. I’d already learned to change myself to accommodate white people. I wasn’t worried about getting teased about my name because I hadn’t yet scrutinised myself through a Eurocentric lens – but this was something I would do daily once the racist remarks at school started. The taunts were not a daily occurrence, but they happened often enough that my confidence was six feet underground. Some of the popular girls I occasionally bonded over My Chemical Romance with composed a song with terrible rhyming that they would sing around me: ‘Yashitty your poo is big and green. Yashitty, you smell like Vaseline.’ I longed to be someone else – anyone else (Picture: Yashi Banymadhub) Hearing it from my peers was bad enough but my P.E. teacher joined in, deliberately calling me ‘Yashitty’ while doing the register without masking her laughter. The whole class laughed. Self-loathing and shame seared my insides. ‘Oh, sorry,’ she mocked. ‘Yashita.’ This became a weekly occurrence. I was never adept at sports, but this made me skip P.E. long after I had a different teacher. I’d be in the medical room complaining about my period as often as I could. I unofficially shortened my name to ‘Yashi’ when I went to university (Picture: Yashi Banymadhub) I longed to be someone else. Anyone else. I wanted a different name. Age 14, after a tear- (and rage) filled conversation with my mum she agreed to a potential name change if I was sure about it. I didn’t know what I wanted to be called but the experience of being dehumanised by my school peers had pushed me to reject who I was. I didn’t ultimately change my name because I didn’t want the racist bullies to win, but I unofficially shortened it to ‘Yashi’ when I went to university, with the darkness of my school experience still casting a shadow on my social life. I’ve gone on to use this abbreviation as a journalist ever since. Today, the experience of this bullying has left some scars (Picture: Yashi Banymadhub) But, while the girls at my single-sex school and that one teacher turned my first name into an expletive, my last name, Banymadhub, becomes a mockery from time to time in adulthood. It was once referred to as ‘an interesting collection of letters’ by the customer service assistant who signed me up for a new iPhone. I grunted in response even though I wanted to say: ‘This is the name of my grandparents and great-grandparents who had survived forced displacement, colonisation and indentured labour. It is a name that I am proud of.’ Now, I realise that the issue is with racist people, not with my identity (even if it took a lot of therapy to get here). I have always come across people who make fun of other people’s names; once, during a ski trip at university, a guy made fun of the Indian last name ‘Dixit’. This time, instead of recoiling in shame, I called it out as the racism it was. The name that once made me flinch now brings up feelings of compassion for my younger self (Picture: Yashi Banymadhub) Working on my confidence after racist bullying was a work-in-progress – but I was getting there. Today, the experience of this bullying has left some scars. I feel uncomfortable in large groups where it’s harder to watch closely for subtle signs of disapproval. A lot of my social anxiety revolves around the fear that people are laughing at me. But there are many South Asian names like mine – Ishita, Akshita, Khushita – and, after learning about other people’s experiences of racism and realising I am not alone, I’ve become not only proud but protective of my name. I no longer wish to change my name – in fact, I love it. While my friends still call me ‘Yashi’ or ‘Yash’, I don’t correct people if they call me Yashita instead. Ridding myself of internalised racism is a neverending lesson in self-acceptance. It required, as American writer and civil rights activist James Baldwin put it, ‘vomiting up all the filth I’d been taught about myself, and half-believed’ before I could learn to love myself. But the name that once made me flinch now brings up feelings of compassion for my younger self – and the pride I feel for my heritage keeps me going. *Name has been changed Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing izzie.price@metro.co.uk. Share your views in the comments below. Arrow MORE: I’m a non-binary mother – and I’m constantly misgendered Arrow MORE: My date showed me something most people would find disgusting – I loved it Arrow MORE: I tried airplane sex – it was awkward and disgusting