Being Brown in Any Town
A decade ago, I stumbled upon a well-kept secret in the HR world of pretty much all the top North American companies. At first, I didn’t believe it, but once I experimented with the idea, it worked. I was enraged yet fascinated.
After the 2008 recession, I moved from Calgary to Toronto, in the hopes of finding my dream job in the media and entertainment industry. On paper, I had everything: a graduate degree from Canada’s preeminent school of media, a national award for innovative storytelling, multiple internships at top film studios, yet no one was calling me back. So, I confided in one of my friends who was a recruiter for leadership positions in the banking industry. “It’s not the recession, it’s your name,” she said. At first, I thought she was joking, but when she explained why majority of the HR departments dump resumes of candidates who have hard to pronounce names, I could see her point. People prefer easier names, foreign and complicated names create mystery, unseen cross cultural challenges, and preconceived notions. “It’s not racism,” she said. “Well, it kinda is,” I raised my shoulders. “Think of it as a personal brand,” she said, “if your name is unusual and hard to pronounce, no one will remember you.”
So, I decided to do an experiment. I changed my name from Afzal Huda to Alex Ashman on my resume, but I kept everything else the same, including the font. I sent my resume out to all the top broadcasters and film and television production houses in Toronto. And guess what? Half of them called me back! WTF! I wondered what kind of a world we have created. That was a total batshit. Maybe that’s why Farrokh Bulsara became Freddie Mercury, Reginald Kenneth Dwight became Elton John, Peter Gene Hernandez became Bruno Mars, I thought.
Same thing happened when I first moved to South Korea and was told, We only hire white people. This is nothing new for me, I have experienced this all my life, but these days I’ve been thinking about this a lot more. I love my name. Afzal is an Arabic word, which means the best. Why would I give that up? I know that it’s not a common name in the Western world, and people rarely remember my name the first time I meet them. But then again maybe I shouldn’t care about the people that I will only meet once. The ones that stay in my life always remember my name. “Your name is not that hard to pronounce,” my friends usually say.
On the other hand, I do understand the importance of a memorable name for branding purposes, but then again I’m not a can of soda that my name should easily roll off your tongue. My name is Afzal Huda, and I like it.
