Growing up in Pilsen, Chicago’s port of entry for Mexicanos, my name was as natural and authentic as the mom and pop stores at every corner.
Even the Caucasian teachers that drove in from the suburbs to our public schools said my and every other kid’s Spanish name fluently.
Maria Concepcion. Esteban. Guadalupe. Salvador. Rodrigo. Raquel.
En fin, todos los nombres típicos de Méjico.
The first time I was called “Gus” was when I registered for high school just outside of Pilsen, might as well have been a world away from our comunidad.
It was a weird moment. One of the first times I felt far away from home. From family. From friends.
And it’s where I became “Gus” for the next four years.
Even my fellow Mexican classmates called me that. I guess to blend into our new surroundings.
I’d love when the Olympics were televised and there’d be an athlete named Gustavo. I’d get to hear the sports commentator say all three syllables Gus-ta-vo loud and clear on national television, over and over again.
By the time I was in college, I reclaimed Gustavo and into the professional arena it was mine again. Doing so was one of the most conscientious and deliberate actions I took at those stage of life.
A few years ago, one of the key characters in the series Breaking Bad’s was named Gustavo Fring, which introduced my name into the normal fold for many.
It’s a pleasure when a non Mexican takes the time to pronounce it.
Sometimes, though, when I give my name over the phone the person on the receiving end hears “Bruce”. I have no idea how they get “Bruce” from my name. It happens quite often 🤷🏻♂️ 😂
Still, Pilsen’s community borders, where our names were as normal as a paleta de agua o leche, have, indeed,expanded and evolved in many ways since my childhood.
How do I pronounce my name?
With all three wonderful and powerful syllable, it is pronounced, Gustavo. 👊🏽👍🏽
Not “Gus”. Or, Bruce. 😂
I imagine many of you can relate.
Comentarios