The (dis) comfort of being called

I am Ebti

 

I was born during the holy month of Ramadan right before sunrise.

For Muslims the time right before sunrise is considered a time prayers are answered.

I was born around that time.

My name is Ebtihal. Which roughly translates to prayer or pleading to god.

 

I grew up in Cairo. This name was and still is not very common and more on the heavy side, religious and serious. I went to a German school and in the 14 years I spent there, I met one other girl whose name was Ebtihal (it was a catholic all-girls school).

Everyone else was Dina or Sarah or Mariam etc. just “regular” names.

 

(What is a regular name anyway? The whole concept of “easy names” seems fishy and colonial to me.)

 

In the Arab world we don’t have a standard transliteration when names get written using the Latin alphabet. Names on Egyptian birth certificates are written in both Arabic and transliterated in Latin letters. My parents wrote my name using the letter “E”, when I got admitted to school I decided to write my name with the letter “I” for some reason I thought Ibtihal is cooler than Ebtihal.

 

In 6th grade during our first class with our new Class and German teacher, we introduce ourselves. I say my name is Ibtihal and he says: no, from now on you are Ibti and because I was desperate to be relieved of that serious and heavy name I accept and this is when Ibti is born.

 

I would like to take a little break from this story to talk about the concept of nicknames.

In Egypt -like in many other countries- you never get called by your name at home, there’s always some sort of nickname, a term of endearment and we all know when our names get called out that we must be in trouble. Your family, neighbors and friends would call you by whatever nickname people agreed on, while everyone knew your real name. Being called by some made up or agreed on nickname or term of endearment makes me feel warm inside.

 

Back to the story. I graduate high school and all my school documents have my name spelled as Ibtihal on them. I continue to study German literature at Cairo University, where no one cares about the transliteration of my name.

 

Until…

 

I go to Germany to do my MA in translation, interpretation and intercultural communication. The nice lady at student’s affairs office tells me she will need to write my name the same way it is in my passport, or else if my name on my degree for example doesn’t match my name in the passport, then it’s basically not valid. (This story does not include the conversation about last names, that is a whole other story).

 

In October 2008 my name becomes Ebtihal again, I get myself an official Gmail account with my official name but at this point my Facebook has been “Ibti” since 2006. One of the most asked questions is why is it Ebtihal and Ibti.

So now my name is Ebtihal but I still go by Ibti.

 

Fast forward to 2012. My husband and myself move to the States. On our second day of arrival it was my birthday so our friend takes us out and we ride the duck in Seattle (yes that duck and yes, it’s terrible). The driver asks if anyone is celebrating a special occasion and of course our friend says: my friend is celebrating her birthday. The driver asks me: what is your name and I say: Ibti. What I heard next is a duck vehicle full of people singing: happy birthday dear Ibziiiiiiiiii. After that I observe how every time I tell someone my name was Ibti they somehow hear it Ibzi.

 

A few months later we get invited to a new year’s party at our new friend’s place. We meet with their friends. I was of course trying to make connections with people as, at this point I realize, how hard it is to make friends in your late 20s in Seattle. This one friend of my friends is talking about doing this and that and I say I would love to join, she asks for my phone number and my name and I say: Ibti and she says: no, I will call you EB.

 

After that, you guessed it right, I went by EB for the 3 and a half years I spent in the Seattle area. It did hit me back then that my name kept shrinking and I let it and now it’s only 2 letters. The funniest thing is that because a lot of people here go by abbreviated names (is this what this is called?) people started asking me what EB stood for: It stands for nothing, it’s simply the first two letters of my name.

 

In 2015 when we make the move to CA and I decide to reclaim my name or rather half of it and go by Ebti (people still said Ibzi but were able to say Ebti -except for when they thought it’s Empty- and I didn’t want to have a question why it’s Ebtihal but Ibti.

 

This story is making me tired, but there is one more twist/turn.

 

Going by Ebti in SF mostly goes smooth, until I start grad school at California College of the Arts, where I write my official name as Ebtihal but introduce myself as Ebti. At some point my name is written as Ebti on the walls of shows or in official publications. Or I get introduced to an official audience as Ebti. I must say at this point I simply don’t have the energy to correct or engage and people’s reaction when they hear Ebtihal is like they heard the most difficult word in the world.

 

I’ve been working on this piece for a long time in an attempt to reclaim my name but in the meantime after losing my dad and for so many other reasons I want to just go by and be Ebti in my work. I never really knew who Ibtihal or Ebtihal was, they both existed in the cracks of ibti, tutu, obba, tito (all nicknames I ever had in my life) and lastly Ebti.

 

So, yes, now I am Ebti. Just Ebti, no last name.