05/09/2025
I'm bringing sexy Sanai back.
When it comes to my ethnicity, I’ve always lived in this strange in-between. The tick-boxes never seem to fit. Not white, not quite anything else either. Just other. And my name has always felt complicated because of it.
Growing up, this otherness was felt in the classroom too. Sometimes it was teasing (often about facial hair, which I now wax away to avoid looking like Borat my Dad). Sometimes it was a slur. Rare, but not forgotten.
Then there was my surname. My dad simplified it when he came here so that life would be “easier,” but he always corrected me if I didn’t say it the proper way:
“It’s not San-eye, azizam, it’s San-eye-ee.”
He even made sure I put two dots on the “i” as a nod to what it used to be. Eventually I got tired of spelling out my name (even Leyla trips people up), correcting pronunciations (Sarnie? No, I'm not a sandwich), and answering “where’s THAT from then?!” So when I got married, I looked forward to taking a name that took most of that away.
I don't regret becoming an Alexander. But I do regret giving up Sanai.
Whilst I sometimes feel guilty for not speaking Farsi fluently or for not being 'Iranian enough,' my name has always been one of the strongest ties I have to that part of my identity.
So I’ve reclaimed my name. And thanks to a deed poll my middle name is now Sanai (San-eye*).
So what's in a name?
Our stories.
And this one carries my family, my heritage, and my place in the in-between. Which is perhaps why making it my middle name seemed the right way to go :)
(*When I’m with my dad, I’ll say San-eye-ee to keep him happy. With 2 dots on the i).
