What does your name mean to you? Zahrah Surooprajally is proud of her's.

What’s your name? The first question people ask us. It’s what we are known by our whole lives. The first thing we respond to. The way we identify ourselves.

Zahrah (ZaH-RaH) ???? : Arabic meaning “Blossom flower”. Also meaning a person who loves writing, walking in the rain and 80s music. She’s a great person... once you get to know her. To me, my name embodies who I am. Everyone has a story, and that story begins with your name.

It’s weird. My name makes me feel like two completely different people sometimes.

I’ve been battling with the Anglicized and Arabic pronunciation of my name my whole life. To everyone at school, 6th form, and work – I’m “Zahrah” (Za-ra). To everyone at home, the community, and every Arabic class I’ve been to, I’m “Zahrah” (ZaH-RaH). I’m used to both, but prefer the Arabic pronunciation, as that is where the meaning comes from.

I grew up hating my name. When I was in primary school, I was one of the very few Ethnic minorities. It’s silly now, but I always wanted a name that people had heard of. The names you saw in storybooks, like Charlotte or Katy. Or even the names you could see in shops, on a pencil case or a water bottle or key ring.

This was because I really just wanted to fit in, as any person does at that age.

In year 6, I started to wear a Hijab. While this was my choice, I couldn’t help but notice I was more different than ever. I was the only one in my entire school who wore one. At this point, I wasn’t even identified by my name. I was always the short, brown, Hijabi girl. And that’s what began to define me.

So mispronunciation was a bigger deal than ever. My name became a really important thing to me. At High school it was always ‘Zaharah” or “Sahara desert”, and in Mauritius, annoyingly, people said ‘Zahrah’ with a French-sounding ‘R’.

All of these grated on me, but never made me angry. It wasn’t done spitefully (most of the time). It was usually a case of a teacher misreading it, everyone finding it HILARIOUS, repeating it over and over until there was someone new to make fun of.

In High school, I met a lot of Zahrah/Zara/Zahra’s (I now know about 6). They all brought something completely original and new to it. But it meant I wasn’t the only one anymore. It’s one of the most popular sounding names in the world. It’s even in the royal family. The name is ROYAL for goodness sake.

While it was lovely to be a part of something, this annoyed me more than ever. I had struggled being different my whole life – no way was I going to let anybody tell me I was the same as everybody else. Not now.

I loved be different now. So during my second year of University, I did what any sane person would do and changed my name on Facebook to ‘Xahrah’. It actually got to the point where people weren’t sure whether it was a ‘Z’ or an ‘X’.

It was only when people assumed it was with an ‘X’, that I realised something. My name wasn’t just a word people said around me. Someone else having the same name didn’t make my name mean less.

My name was still me. ‘Zahrah’ (ZaH-RaH). It signified the love of the people who chose it for me. It has the weight of being associated with one of the most amazing women from my religion’s history. It is an Arabic word, used all around the world. It doesn’t just mean ‘flower’, but ‘blossom flower’, meaning it doesn’t just signify beauty – but also growth and flourishment.

I guess I have learnt to be proud of my name, I hope I can do it justice and live up to it.

What does your name mean to you? Where does it come from? Do Something UK want you to share your name, its origins and how you pronounce it to celebrate identity this Black History Month.

Sign up to Say My Name, find the origin of your name, share it on Twitter or Instagram with the pronunciation, and upload a screenshot to the Do Something site.

A little something like this:

‘Hi I’m ZaH-raH, which means ‘blossom flower’ in Arabic #saymyname’

— Xahrah Surooprajally (@KiwiiJelly) October 5, 2015