The Chronicles of "Bithiah" (Part I)

Growing up with a name as strange and unique as mine has, I think, significantly affected much of my childhood and many of my experiences growing up. I dealt with the strangest name-related things as a child, and remained unaware of their eccentricity for a long time.

For instance, here is a brief list of things that happened to me only because my name is Bithiah:

1) Whenever there was a substitute teacher in class for the day, attendance always sounded like this-- "Andrew, Ryan, Kelly, Amanda, (long pause)... (brings attendance sheet very close to face, narrows eyes).. Hmm.. uh.. I apologize in advance if I'm about to totally butcher this... (totally butchers it)"

2) Whenever I met someone for the first time, regardless of the situation or surrounding or time of day, the introduction would always be the same--
Me: Hi, I'm Bithiah.
Stranger: What?

Me: Bithiah

Stranger: ... how do you spell that?

Me: B-I-T-H-I-A-H

Stranger: What?

3) Whenever I tell the barista at Starbucks what my name is so they can write it on my grande cup (grande. Always a grande!), I stand off to the side near the counter waiting for this exact scenario to happen--

Barista: Latte for Jennifer! Sam, I have your coffee right here! I have a tall iced passion tea for Greg! Two hot chocolates for Andrea! I have a grande decaf hazelnut latte with soy, light whip!

Me: Is that... mine? Maybe someone else who didn't bother to tell the cashier their name ordered the exact same thing as me just now. I'll just wait a few minutes to see if someone else goes up to get it... Okay, it's mine. It's probably mine. Definitely is. I've waited 4 minutes. The latte is probably cold by now. I guess there's a pretty high chance that it's mine. Should I just take it? Oh my goodness, I hope I didn't accidentally take someone else's grande decaf hazelnut latte with soy and light whip.. I'd feel so awful!

4) Whenever I met someone just one time, and then we separated for years and years, and then we reunited somewhere else, I would have to prepare to feel like an inconsiderate, selfish ass with a bad memory.
Me: Hey, my name is Bithiah Lee.

Stranger: Oh! Bithiah! Your name sounds so familiar! We must have met before! 

Me: Oh yeah? 

Stranger: Yeah, I'm sure of it! I recognize your name!

Me: Haha

Stranger: I'm JOHN. Do you remember meeting me?!

Me: ... I'm an ass.

5) Various situations might bring about this conversation--
Me: Sorry, how do you pronounce your name?
Jackie: Jack- E.
Me: Okay, Jack-E! 
Jackie: Your name?
Me: Bith- EYE- ah.
Jackie: Okay, Bith-E-Ah!
Me: It's actually, Bith-EYE-ah
Jackie: Yeah, Bith-eeee-ah. That's what I said!

6) Whenever I am involved in an e-mail exchange, this will definitely, always happen-- 

Me: Hey everyone, wedged sneakers will never be cool. Kindly, Bithiah

Recipient 1: Dear Bithia,

Recipient 2: Yeah, Bithia..

Me: Because they're a stupid idea. Love, Bithiah

Recipient 3: Hey Bithra..

Me: Yes, I do think you could get hurt walking in them. Sincerely, Bithiah

Recipient 2: Oh, Bithyana!

Recipient 3: Hey Papaya, 

Recipient 2: Messiah? 

Recipient 4: Yo Mathia..

Me: I will not buy them for you. Patiently, BithiaH

Recipient 1: Ok, Bithia

Now, in the name of progress and making improvements based on lessons learned, I am pretty happy to announce that I no longer live in shame in the classroom or in Starbucks! Daily I am making changes. After several years of trial and error, I have come up with my current, most recent, up-to-date list of ways that I have achieved victory over the brief list of things that happened to me only because my name is Bithiah (see list above):

1) Sub: Andrew.. 

Andrew: Here!

Sub: Ryan.. 

Ryan: Here!

Sub: Kelly..

Kelly: Here!

Sub: Amanda..

Amanda: Here!

Sub: (short pause)

Me: Here!

2) Now, whenever I meet someone for the first time--

Me: Hi, I'm Bithiah.

Stranger: (shakes hand)

Me: Bithiah. B-I-T-H-I-A-H.. Bithiah. Bithiah! I can write it down somewhere for you if you want.

3) Now, when I'm in Starbucks-- 

Barista: Can I get something started for you?

Me: Yes, can I please get a grande decaf hazelnut latte with soy milk and light whip?

Barista: Certainly! And your name?

Me: Sara.

4) Now, whenever someone looks kind of familiar, but also like they probably wouldn't remember me unless I told him my name--

Stranger: Hey, I'm John. What's your--

Me: Hi John! Nice to meet you. I'm so sorry to cut this short, but I have to go! I'm late for work! 

And then I run away.

5) Now, whenever someone asks me to explain the proper pronunciation of my name more than twice, I am prepared--
Jackie: So, how do you pronounce Bithiah?
Me: Bith-EYE-ah.
Jackie: Bith-eee-ah?
Me: You can call me B.

6) This item is unfortunately, one that I have not yet found a solution to. I may just have to prepare to admit defeat and accept the less-than-ideal hypothesis that the combination of the letters B, I, T, H, and A in the particular number and order in which they appear in my name causes instant dyslexia and loss of hearing. It's unavoidable. 

But in all honesty, I am not without grace. I am very understanding of the difficulties that my name causes on the everyday, and the havoc that Bithiah wreaks on the average conversation. Bithiah is tough, and a little bit rude. Storming into a crowded room jam-packed with Dan's and Ann's, she announces her arrival with three hideously awkward, blundering and unsubtle syllables. And people do stare. The Dan's, especially. The Muriel's and Henrietta's in the room tend to recover quicker and sometimes they even manage to pick up their jaws, though slightly bruised from when they first hit the ground, before I can catch them.

Bithiah sucks in other ways too! Like, whenever someone sees my name before they see me, it really is unfair to him or her, because my name poses a major obstacle in their normally very sharp deduction skills. They stare and stare at my name that is scrawled on the small place setting card sitting on the table next to them in the auditorium. They wonder to themselves, Is Bithiah a boy or a girl? Is she.. white, Asian, or Armenian? Oh my god. Bithiah has to be a guy. A German one. Probably huge. He sounds like a bully. And I'm going to have to sit next to him for this whole semester? Worst.

And then, when I finally arrive, this individual watches as I approach my assigned seat. Closer and closer I walk, and my new seatmate's face begins to change. It's hard to describe the exact change that takes place on his face. Maybe it's relief. Relief as he realizes that I can't actually destroy him using nothing but the stench of my manly armpits, which I'm sure he imagined would be both hairy and sweaty. And when I finally arrive to my seat, I often get a response somewhere along the lines of  "Oh wow! You look nothing like what I imagined you to look like," and I'm all like, "What did you expect me to look like!" 

Because, when I see your name, I don't just immediately think, "Oh, this person probably looks like a milk maid or cricket player from Greece. She sounds just like she should have auburn hair and probably definitely brown eyes." (Except for people with the names Precious or Stu. I do have images of you). But by this point in the conversation, my new seatmate's relief and surprise has pretty much reached the point of hysteria as he sputters out-- between gasps of laughter-- "You're a Chinese girl and you're so small." 

I know he would not have laughed at me for being Chinese or for being small if my name card had read Grace or MiMi or Wen-Chi instead.

But don't worry. If you were one of those people who admits that you saw the same hairy German man in your head at the first sight of Bithiah, I have grace enough to forgive you as well. I so get it. When the average person who has only ever been surrounded by Dan's and Ann's sees Bithiah for the first time, it is very common to also think of such names as Goliath and Bohemith and Bunyan and, if you're Chinese, a nickname, "Big Thigh Ah!" I am a realist. 

This concludes the first chapter of the Chronicles of "Bithiah." However, I find that this is the appropriate place to add these last two bullet points. 

• The Chronicles of "Bithiah" actually begins in the Bible. 1 Chronicles 4:18! You have no idea who Bithiah is, but you kind of do. She is Pharoah's daughter who found Moses in the basket in the river. She is his adopted Egyptian mom! WHO KNEW, EH?
• The name Bithiah actually means "Daughter of God" in Hebrew. Not quite "Goliath," eh?

Sincerely,

bcl.