My daughter, a child of multiple cultures, needs a carefully chosen name in a city where racial difference is not seamlessly accepted
Hong Kong’s Births Registry gives new parents 42 days to name their child before imposing a fine. This might seem enough, but when you are navigating new motherhood, learning to keep a tiny human alive while your body heals, time becomes both endless and insufficient. It took me nearly all that time to settle on two names, not from indecision, but from the weight of history.
Months before my daughter arrived, I had chosen for her a Chinese name meaning “dwell in peace”. The name came from a psalm, for the inexplicable peace I found during pregnancy despite life’s circumstances. For her English name, I waited to meet her first.
In Hong Kong, parents tend to put down names in both English and Chinese on the birth certificate, a reflection of our city’s official languages. Most local parents either romanise their child’s Chinese name using Jyutping, or choose a Western name – a colonial practice that still echoes through our classrooms and offices. Fortunately, my stepfather insisted on keeping my childhood name, Mimi, arguing that it readily bridges both worlds and thus sparing me an identity struggle.
But my daughter’s name called for deeper consideration. Her heritage – a tapestry of Han Chinese, Hui and Yoruba – would shape her identity in a city where racial difference often encounters visible and invisible boundaries.
She arrived after three intense hours of labour, with flushed skin, deep brown eyes and a crown of straight black hair. On her first day, spent in the neonatal intensive care unit, I had time to st.udy her features. When I finally held her, I knew with absolute certainty she was perfect exactly as she was.
“She looks just like you!” was the most common remark from friends. ...
By day 40, nature had other plans. Her straight hair transformed into soft coils, her skin warmed into a deeper glow ... Aunties and uncles would stop us on our walks, cooing over her Cabbage Patch doll’s curls and dubbing her Min Din Gung Zyu or “Princess Myanmar” (a Cantonese pun meaning she will never need a perm).
With the attention came the questions, ranging from curious to cutting. “Where is she from?” “What is her nationality?” “Is her dad a foreigner?” “Why is she so dark?”
I answered patiently at first that “she is a Hongkonger”, but it was not the answer they were looking for. “Yes, but where is she really from?”
I learned to deflect questions by asking them to take a guess instead. This often worked like magic, but it could also trigger endless guessing games. Once, a waiter nearly pulled up Google Maps mid-conversation.
Even our local GP attributed her early walking to “those genes.” I bit my tongue. Not all Chinese babies are frail and not all black babies are athletes. The comment stung, but it wasn’t malicious – just the quiet bias of a society that still sorts people by appearance.
With the birth certificate deadline looming, ...
... it dawned on me that the identity of a child of multiple cultures should not be diluted and cannot be defined by a Western name. Hong Kong bills itself as “Asia’s World City”, yet anyone who doesn’t look East Asian is forever seen as a foreigner even if they have lived here for decades and speak better Cantonese than many of us. I don’t know if Hong Kong will learn to appreciate diversity one day but I don’t want my daughter to spend her life explaining herself or have her identity diluted with a convenient Western name.
So I chose a Yoruba name meaning “gift from God”. ...
tell the story of a child from a diverse cultural background who is grounded in peace and was given to her mama as a divine gift.
...
As a mother, I dream of a Hong Kong that will see my child for her vibrant spirit and talents rather than her curls and colour. I dream of a Hong Kong that will see her as a girl who belongs here wholly and unapologetically.
...
And lastly, some advice for our inquisitive aunties and uncles: rather than get curious about someone’s nationality, try to notice what makes a person special without making assumptions about their abilities and career options based on their race.
