Six Letters of Identity

I never would have thought that six letters could be the cause of such confusion and complications.

Six letters.


Six letters that make no sense in most of the world and whose pronunciation apparently has endless possibilities. Six letters that formed my identity in more ways than one since my parents bestowed them upon me.

Growing up as a Third Culture Kid (TCK), identity becomes a complex issue. It’s tough to define your identity when you’ve grown up in different countries and have assimilated many cultures. I usually present myself as Lebanese-American, but that statement is only partly true. I am 100% Lebanese by blood and heritage (but have never lived there), American by passport and I grew up all over the world, in six countries spread over four continents.

The only constants in my life and identity were my family and my name. A name that I loved but at times grew weary of, having to spell it and explain it all the time. Enduring mispronunciations, mockery and confusion, no matter where we were in the world. Sometimes I longed for a simpler, more common name, ruing my parents for giving me such a difficult name. I resented it even more because my older sister had a far easier name to spell and pronounce.

Although we generally attended international schools, it was still a name that stood out and that most people had never heard before. Even within the more tolerant and worldly community at those schools I heard jokes about my name, my background and certain physical traits from my cultural heritage. Interestingly enough, it was when attending a non-international school that I started to develop a stronger sense of self and didn’t feel the need to shy away from my background. I had always loved my name and where I was from, but I began to accept my name and my identity with a newfound confidence.

As I grew older, the way I viewed my name changed. I would still get frustrated at having to teach people how to pronounce it and it was never fun being the new kid with such a unique name… But the older I got, the more I embraced my name. I was always the only Dounia. People might have had trouble saying it or spelling it, but they usually remembered my name and me. My name, like my heritage, became a source of pride as I became old enough to piece together the different parts of my identity.

I’ve heard my name pronounced so many different ways and I’ve heard it with the lilt of many accents. I’ve been given countless nicknames – some that I love and others not so much. But my name is mine and I love it.

29 years later and I would never change those six letters. I am grateful that my parents gave me a name that stands out and that is part of my cultural heritage. And unknowingly, they also prepared me well for my TCK identity: in Arabic, Dounia means world. My name, my heritage, my background, my TCK experience, all wrapped up in six little letters.


Six letters that say it all.



6 thoughts on “Six Letters of Identity

  1. Oh what a wonderful post! I too was blessed with a name that was very different from others growing up and constantly misspelled, but I LOVE the meaning of yours! How appropriate! This is so well written … but … how DO you pronounce it?? I wouldn’t want to meet you in person one day and screw it up! : ) Happy Sunday!


    1. Thank you, Paige! I think you have a lovely name, by the way 🙂 People often spell my name phonetically as Dunya (doo-nee-a; long ‘e’, short ‘a’) and emphasis is on the first syllable… Not sure if that makes sense – it’s tough to explain it written down! I don’t really mind when people get it wrong because I know it’s a tough one to pronounce! So sorry about the long delay in replying, but your comment made me smile as always! 🙂


  2. Dude, I could have written this myself—almost word-for-word—with my own name. That’s how similar our experiences are. Except I never quite minded my name for being mine…it just drove me mad when people couldn’t, for the life of them, pronounce it properly. Worse are those that wouldn’t, no matter how many times I corrected them. And from the minute I “met” you here on the blogosphere, I immediately noticed the link between your TCK life and your name. It’s awesome!


    1. I was so sure you would understand this one even more than most people! How could you not with all the similarities between us, our TCK life, our Lebanese background and our names?! I think I always loved my name and I never really wanted a different one, but it sometimes got SO frustrating to always have to spell it and explain the pronunciation. And you’re so right – the worst was when you had to keep telling someone and they STILL didn’t get it. How hard is it to repeat it exactly as I say it?!? I’m not surprised you made the link between my name and my TCK life – I figured you would 🙂 I think it’s pretty awesome my parents chose that name and I would never, ever change it! 🙂 Thanks again for all these great comments!!


      1. Indeed, I completely relate. What’s funny is that I’ve had far less trouble with non-Arabs pronouncing my name!! They usually get “close enough” and there were a couple variations that they usually went with. But Arabs? That’s a whole different ballgame because my name *sounds* a lot like another name, but there is a subtle (while significant) difference. They insist on calling me “هلا” when my name is actually “هالة”. Different spelling and entirely different meanings. No matter how many times I explain it, they always fall back on “هلا”. Drives me bonkers. The former is actually the far more common name, so I get the mistake, but why insist on doing it over and over again? Le sigh.

        Haha, okay, rant over! Still love my name though.


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