Misheru

Okay, so I caved and found myself a new Chinese name, one that didn’t sound like ‘Tina.’ No offense to all you Tina’s out there, but my Chinese teacher thought it would be clever if my name became “Mar Tin Ah” to sound like my last name, Martinez. I was not amused. Names, to me, have power. Marti changed his name in the military, calling himself “Marti” because his drill sergeant, who called everyone by his or her last name, couldn’t get all of “Martinez” out. So, he cut it short — Marti. And it’s Marti with an ‘i’, not a ‘y,’ because he just ripped the ‘nez’ off of his uniform tag and “Martinez” became “Marti.”

I never figured on taking the last name of my spouse, but I did, mainly to irritate the more racist members of my extended family. It was just too good to pass up. (To those of you concerned that I put my whole name on here, check out the number of Missy or Michelle Martinez’ in Tucson. They are numerous. It’s fun to see what ‘Michelle Martinez’ has gotten into in the court databases, too — one of me was picked up for prostitution in Phoenix (she was close to my age, too). Oh the joys of a bored librarian with a database at her fingertips…).

Anyway, just because I changed my name doesn’t mean I want to spend the next several months being called “Martinez” or a derivative of that. Nor would I want to be called “Pissy Missy,” a college nickname that was quickly shortened to “Piss”, ever again. Xenophobic rednecks and bad nicknames aside, Tina Mar was not my ideal Chinese name for another reason. There was a girl named Tina when I was a kid who really irritated me, so I didn’t feel like taking her name — I mean, maybe that’s petty, but like I said, names can be defining.  So I suggested that I might find my own (new) Chinese name.

My teacher was really taken aback when I refused the name — I was the only person in my class who did so. Apparently, the name I did pick is a particularly beautiful one, since several Chinese TAs have commented on it. The characters mean “beautiful snow” and it is pronounced sort of like my nickname, Missy — Mei sue (May Sway) with both tones rising (two 3rd tones together, for those who care).

When I lived in Japan and spoke Japanese, I quite literally had a Japanese persona. My Japanese persona is quite different from my American persona. I am much quieter and sweeter in Japanese (although it’s hard to be mean in Japanese unless you can do ‘icily polite’ really well), and LeeAnn often commented that I was very different in Japanese than I was in English. I don’t think that’s all that uncommon; after all, people express themselves quite differently in different languages.

Chinese is a whole new ballgame, as the teacher continually encourages us to ‘sound angry’ in order to get the fourth tone right, and the language continues to surprise me with its directness. On Friday, I was shocked to find that people call each other by their first names — some of my dearest Japanese friends (Moto-san, Aoyama-san, Aoki-san) are older than me and I simply cannot call them by their first names. It feels dishonoring to our deep friendship and respect, and they have never offered for me to do so, so I would never presume that I could (remember how sweet I am in Japanese?). The fact that the Chinese no longer bow in greeting is also shocking to me, and somewhat sad; the pomp and circumstance of Japanese culture, with bowing doormen and little old ladies bobbing to each other in the street is what I grew to love, and continue to miss. I knew the rules would be different, but what is surprising me is just how much.

Nevertheless, it is an adventure, and we’ll see who I become in Chinese — hopefully beautiful enough to live up to the name I picked for myself, anyway.  Maybe beautiful and angry. With lots of shouting. I might like this Chinese business…

zài jiàn!