It’s pronounced wa-gee-uh

Growing up in a community as diverse as Queens, New York, you would think something as small as your name would never become a problem. Whether it be Karen or Samalahoha, who really cares? It’s New York City, the home of immigrants and multicultural neighborhoods.

In my most irrelevant opinion, I feel like your name truly defines who you are. I mean I’m not saying if your name is Osama you’re automatically a terrorist, I mean it in the sense that your name is a part of you.

From the day you enter the world, or even before, you have your name. When you apply to jobs or fill out forms, it’s your name that is used to identify you. You are your name.

As you probably know by the title of the book, I’m here to tell everyone about my life. Granted, you probably don’t give a shit , but I’m high and we are going through a pandemic so I’m choosing to expose my life. However, before I can do that I need to start from the beginning. I need to start from something as simple as my name for you to truly understand me. Also, I think I might have ADHD so buckle up for the ride, it’s going to be long.

It’s Pronounced Wa-gee-uh

Kindergarten

“Jennifer? Jennifer are you here” Ms. Moon called out as she scanned the room taking attendance.

“Here” Jennifer said, jumping out of her seat. (She’s weird)

“Wa..wage..wahee..wa” I stared at her as she struggled to say my name. As a 5 year old, you want kids to like you, but when a teacher butchers your name, you become the laughing stock of the class.

“Wa…har..” she continued to struggle, even trying my last name. I suddenly feel my cheeks getting red and I look around the room. Everyone is trying to figure out who the kid with the weird name is. I felt an overwhelmingly weird sense of anger take over and finally I jump out of my chair…

“It’s wajeeha! Wa-gee-uh! Like Gia but with a Wa in front of it. Say it with me wa-gee”

“Okay Wajeeha- “ Ms. Moon interrupts, “ there’s no need to get riled up now honey take your seat”

Honey? Who the heck is she calling honey? Why is everyone looking at me? Ew did Jennifer just pick her nose?

“YUCK! JENNIFER IS A BOOGIE PICKER LOOK!” I yelled while pointing at her, trying to distract the class from what just happened. Everyone turned around and laughed at her.

“Boogie picker, boogers, boogie monster” I hear all the kids yelling as I sit in my victorious glory of getting everyone off my back.

“Wajeeha, that’s no recess for you today! Take a star off your behavior chart!”

With a big smile I get out of my seat, walk towards the door, then look back midway and say “you did it! You got my name right! Gold star for you!” I then marched over, took the star off my chart, then went and stuck it on to her forehead.

I had no recess for a month after that, but the whole class knew my name from then on. I was Wajeeha, the sassy mouth kid from class K-123. Not wa-hee-ha, not wajee-HA, or wa-hee-ga, but wa-gee-uh.

2nd Grade

Here we go again. First day of school. New teacher, new students, new people to teach my name. Hooray.

“Will all the students in Ms. Margheta’s class please line up infront of exit B. Class 2-305, Ms. Margheta’s class, exit B” the lunch lady yelled, pointing to the door where my teacher for the next year stood.

I push the button on my roller bag, grab the handle, and make my way over to the door. A few minutes pass by and we walk over to the stairs to make our way upstairs to the classroom.

Oh boy, the third floor? That’s so many stairs. I don’t have my inhaler. I’m going to breath heavy and all the kids are going to laugh at me for being fat.

As I drag my bag up the stairs, out of breath, I try to mask the sound of my heavy breathing. We finally make it to floor three and walk into the class. I sit in the closest chair, drink some water, and cool off. As I look around I notice no one is staring at me.

Wow maybe today won’t be so bad. No one saw so maybe I’ll make frie-

“Attendance time!” Ms. Margheta announces.

Ughhhhhh well I guess I’m not making friends this year.

“Wa…” Ms. Margheta begins to say.

Yup. There goes one person looking around.

“Wag…”

There goes 3 more trying to find the kid with the weird name.

“Wa…”

Finally my heaving breathing settles, I get up and shamefully say “it’s pronounced wa-gee-uh”

“What kind of name is that?” I heard someone whisper.

Even as a 7 year old, I felt my feelings hard. Shame was a new one. I truly felt ashamed of my name.

The day goes on and I keep to my self. We did some independent reading then moved on to science. After science we went to the lunchroom to eat. I sat alone with my pb & j.

Why couldn’t they just name me something like Sarah or Cathy. Why wa-gee-uh

After about 30 minutes we went back upstairs for social studies.

Not the stairs again.

Since I was now known as the weird kid, everyone paid attention to me now. Everyone noticed my breathing and everyone knew exactly what my name was now, so as expected, the teasing begun.

“Wajeeha the wheezer”

“Wheezing Wajeeha”

“Freaking jerks!” I yell, “ I’ll waj a jeeha up your-“-

“Alright alright settle down” Ms. Margheta says as we all walk over to the learning center of the room.

Kids can be so harsh, I know. This sounds so mean, and it was, but what I didn’t expect was for it to get worse.

We all sat on the carpet and began the days social studies lesson. As Ms. Margheta wrote the daily aim on the board I see the words “September 1st , 2001”

Oh hell noooo are you fudging kidding meeeeeeeeeeee

It’s safe for you to assume that after that day I wished I never would have corrected my teacher from butchering my name. Wa-jay-ha would have been way better than wheezing Wajeeha.

Y’all.. these kids really called me wheezing waj by the end of the year. They couldn’t even keep my full name like damn.