What’s in a Name? Everything White Australia Still Can’t Say

Say It Like You Mean It

Let’s start with the basics: If you can say Tchaikovsky, ceviche, or Margarita-with-a-salted-rim-but-hold-the-agave, you can say Kyriakos.

I’ve lived in Australia for 31 years. In the ’90s, people could pronounce my name—because Victor Kiriakis was on Days of Our Lives. Suddenly “Kyriakos” wasn’t too hard. It was TV familiar. No one flinched.

Fast-forward a few decades. I’ve worked in newsrooms, boardrooms, and panels across this country. Yet even in “diverse” rooms, I still get called random names. Sometimes Chris, sometimes a random acronym. Once, someone called me George—because apparently, every Greek man is either a stereotype or their uncle.

But the worst? Kyrgios. Not because I have anything against him (love King Kyrgios), but because the assumption is instant, automatic, and erasing. They saw my name, clocked my ethnicity, and defaulted to the only Greek-Australian they could name. They didn’t see me—and when I corrected them? They doubled down. That’s not forgetfulness. That’s refusal.

Because that’s how soft power works: You become easier to ignore when you’re harder to pronounce. It’s not hieroglyphics. It’s four syllables. Say it like you’d say “expensive champagne.”

Misnaming Isn’t Harmless

If someone can’t be bothered to say your name, how will they describe you? Do they reach for racial shorthand? Vague labels? Stereotypes?

This isn’t just awkward. It’s erasure. I’ve seen it cost people promotions, invitations, credibility. I’ve had work attributed to someone “easier to name.” I’ve watched people introduce me without even attempting it. This isn't about phonetics. It's about power.

When misnaming becomes routine, the problem shifts. What starts in racism gets rebranded as casual. Then it becomes culture. And once it's culture, even those of us impacted start going along with it—because challenging it becomes exhausting.

Whose Name Gets the Shortcut?

My name carries meaning. Kyriakos means “of the Lord.” Its feminine version, Kyriaki, means Sunday. It’s not a vibe check. It’s my identity.

But even when my first name is hard, my last name is Gold. Easy. Spelled like it sounds. Still, I get: “That can’t be right.” Or worse, “What’s your real last name?”

It’s not curiosity. It’s control. The same mindset that refuses pronouns says: I will decide what to call you.

This happens at the highest levels. Names get misread, credentials get overlooked, and presence gets questioned—not because the people involved lack experience, but because they don’t match a narrow mental image of what leadership should look or sound like.

The DEI Illusion

Even in rooms filled with equity statements and rainbow lanyards, this still happens. I've heard diversity champions trip up—and not bother correcting themselves. I've seen inclusion plans where nobody can pronounce half the room’s names.

We pour money into Pride campaigns and DEI frameworks but skip the most basic form of respect: saying someone’s name—correctly, confidently, consistently. And sometimes, saying someone’s name properly might be the most Prideful act you can do.

If that’s too hard, what else are we skipping?

The Cost of Disrespect

Misnaming isn’t small. It compounds. It chips away at legitimacy. It reinforces whose voices matter—and whose are optional.

And when we let it slide, we teach others to do the same. We model that it’s okay to flatten someone’s identity for ease or comfort.

That’s not inclusion. That’s assimilation with a glossy budget.

You can recite every syllable of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of Her Name…, but you still trip over Kyriakos?

Say the Name. All of It.

The Say My Name initiative isn’t about manners. It’s not branding. It’s a mirror. It asks: Whose names do we learn? Whose do we forget? And what does that say about us?

So if you care about inclusion—start at the start. Say the name. All of it. Correctly. Every time.

If you can’t read the name, how can you be trusted to read the room?

First published on LinkedIn, 9 June 2025.