The young woman in the counter looked at me and repeated my name twice with the English sound of the /g/ when facing an /e/ or an /i/. I said nothing, smiled at what was obvious a USA based so called “hispanic” pinching another “herpanic”(In Puerto Rico “hispanicos” or “hispanistas” are those who adore and study Spain’s culture; and claim to be direct descendants of Spaniards “sin mezcla”). It was not the first time it happened with a USA “latina” -who most probably speaks English like a “native”- or with an anglo who cannot switch that quickly from how he or she had learned to say the name in English. Some used the opportunity to learn to roll the “Rs”, learning right away. Others kept calling me “Llerardo” and I had no problem with their limitations. Since most were not interested -or seemed that way- to annoy me, I had no issue with the mispronunciation. I also did it (still do) so many times with my colleagues and friends: Günter became Goonter; Sherrin became Sharon; Gaari instead of Gaerie, and Madelon was Madelin, like Proustian pastries in my mouth. I was very tired and dizzy after a week in a ship, and too old to pay attention to a young fool who could have bought into the racist construct: “if you have an accent, you are not their equals” (not that they could ever be; much less if you are clerk behind a counter from 9 to 5). My “Rs” (two in the name and four in the last names) are strong, and I roll them with pleasure. Was she reacting to my explosive and roaring “Rs” was the question that appeared in my retired full of free time and leisure oriented mind, seven days later, leading me to wonder, if the reason I had to go back twice to her, to get help with the elevator, so I could go up to meet my hosts, was due to my name been said with clarity in Spanish: Gerardo Torres Rivera.
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