How many different names do you go by? In what contexts are they used? Who uses them? How do you and others identify with them? How do you feel about them?

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about pseudonyms. Authors and narrators use them often, and I have felt some inner conflict about how to address these people whom I so admire, especially if I consume their work under all of their names and want to know them as whole people… Then this past week I realized: I have multiple names, too.

Cathy, Cath, Catherine, Dr. Cheng, 鄭家薏 or just 家薏 (my Chinese full and given names), and 大姐 (literally big sister). Doc. Chenger. 媽 (“Ma”), or “Mother,” as Daughter chooses to call me. What you call me indicates how we know each other, my identity in your eyes, our relationship. 

I use ‘Catherine’ on all legal and professional documents, and as a speaker/writer. I choose to maintain that name on social media as well, because I see it as my public name. ’Cathy’ is what you can call me when you know me personally. That is how I make the distinction; when you call me Cathy you have crossed a border of familiarity (it’s not hard). So it’s interesting to me when some people still call me Catherine after that connection is made. I don’t mind, necessarily, but I notice. I asked a colleague why he does this; he said he didn’t know, which was interesting. I think since then he just hasn’t used my first name when addressing me. Fascinating.

I call myself Dr. Cheng with students and trainees. That just feels appropriate. I introduce myself to patients and coworkers as Cathy Cheng. Unless they are senior physicians, whom I consider my teachers and thus address as Dr. ___, I address patients by their preferred first names unless otherwise requested. Some patients and staff still elect to call me Dr. Cheng. Here’s the interesting part: I get different feelings (and/or make up different stories) about why. From some, it feels like simple respect and deference, from a cultural, professional, or generational origin, which I appreciate. For others, it feels like an intentional separation, as if they don’t want to know me as a person, and resist letting me know them in kind–it’s transactional. I have no objective evidence for this theory, it’s just a feeling I get. And it’s all okay. I see it as my job to show up to patients however they need and allow me. My preference is for us to know each other as whole people, informally, openly, on a first name basis. But if that’s not what they want, I can still be a good enough doctor for them. We don’t have to be friends for you to get excellent care. 

If I’m honest, though, I see every new patient–every new person I meet, actually–as a potential new friend. I have had the privilege now of making friends with many patients over the years. We keep appropriate boundaries. I message medical stuff through the patient portal and my work email. We keep clinical conversations to formal encounters, and I document accordingly. We agree in advance that if it gets too weird we will be open about it, and either party may exit either or both relationships, no hard feelings. So far it has not felt difficult and nobody has broken up with me yet. Having different names actually helps. ”Okay now I’m talking to Dr. Cathy,” Patient Friend may say, not necessarily addressing her physician, but her physician friend. It’s organic.

The more I think about it, the less important it feels to make too much of these identity distinctions around names. At the end of the day I am me, whole and indivisible. You may know me as doctor and friend, among many other roles. You may also choose to not know all of me. That’s okay too, as long as whatever relationship we have is mutually respectful. I have written before about the exercise that invites us to consider our various identities as petals on a flower, which we can orient and re-orient according to environment and context. One of the greatest rewards of any given relationship is when we slowly reveal more of ourselves to each other over time, and our connection deepens in its own unique way. I love that. I’m less confused now about how to relate to and address my book heroes. I will call them what they call themselves, and aim to know them however they wish to be known.

Apparently, the readings today in the Catholic church had to do with names. My friend Danielle emailed me her reflections just as I started writing this post, which I took as a divine signal. She has given me permission to share here, for which I am so grateful. 

We take our names for granted. It’s not good or bad, it just is. I’m glad and grateful to have been nudged this week to explore and consider, to have time and space to think and write about my names and identities, and how they relate–to everything. I expect additional insights will emerge in the coming days, weeks, etc. How exciting! Please enjoy Danielle’s words below. I have known her since I was 18; I respect and admire her greatly. 
Best wishes, all!

On a personal level, I think about my name.  I was born Daniel Tuck Wai Lum.  My parents gave us English first names and Chinese middle names.  (It made life easier when folks in the US called me Daniel, and didn’t have to attempt to pronounce Tuck Wai.) When I transitioned, I changed my name to Danielle Tuck Wai Lum.  Most of us never change our first or middle names.  For those of us who are transgender, everyone (or almost everyone) changes their first name.  Many want a name that is very distinct from the name given to them at birth.  For me, I liked my birth first name, just not the gender of it, so Danielle was an easy and logical choice.  Tuck Wai was harder.  As I mentioned earlier, in Chinese names, all children of the same generation and gender are given the same second name, so my brother is Tuck Leung and my sisters are Choy Quon and Choy Hung.  When I transitioned, it would have made some sense to be Choy something or other, but I liked the meaning of my name.  Tuck Wai is typically translated as “good conduct” but can also be translated as “rare kindness”.  I liked the latter translation so much that I stuck with my birth middle name.  When I pray I think about whether I am living up to my name.  Perhaps you too can learn about some aspect of the derivation of your name and ponder whether you are living up to that.