I see you look at my name tag. I know what you want to ask. But no, I am not changing it

It’s often the first thing you say to me, and I can usually tell what you’re about to ask. I’ll be in a job interview or at some networking event, and we’ll say hello as your eyes flick down to my name tag.

I’ll see you squint, maybe try to pronounce what you’re reading, and then out it comes. “Why do you have so many names?”

Yes, the double hyphen of Heitmann-Ryce-LeMercier might seem like overkill, but there is a reason why I have so many surnames.

Where I am in my life right now is a similar position to that of many others in their mid-to-late 20s. So much of this decade in a person’s life is spent navigating the uncertainty of new places and new relationships. Quite a shock after the protected settings of the childhood bedroom and university timetable.

We twenty-somethings have a lot to show for ourselves, but out here in the big world, there is a lot expected of us. And it’s hard. It’s hard to have a decent idea of where you want to be in life without an obvious way of getting there.

Having a triple-barrelled name makes me a target. But the sneers aren’t going to make me give up my identity.

And this is why I like my surname. It reminds me of those who did what I’m trying to do, who moved countries and knew what they wanted their lives to look like.

Though I was named Liam Heitman-Rice at birth, I reverted to the original spelling of my name in my 20s and later added my grandmother’s name to the end. Amid the lack of guidance I see within my own life at times, it helps me follow the passages laid by the itchy feet of my European ancestors.

I come from many different places. My mother’s side originated from northern Germany (Heitmann), my dad’s hailed from Ireland (Ryce), and a small spritz of French ancestry is what positions LeMercier at the end of an already sprawling family tree.

It’s a name I like, one that carries the history of a family that has left their homelands in pursuit of a better life.

It’s a name that derives from many regions and is not specifically a part of anywhere. I can relate to that. As someone born in Western Australia, raised in England, and now living in Melbourne, I have not achieved settled status. I am still finding my way.

However. Having such a long, unusual name does sometimes make me a target. A recent article of mine on the stigma experienced by service workers was shared on X by someone who got 1700 likes for suggesting that anyone who has a name like mine deserves ridicule if they aren’t an aristocrat. Other comments online suggested I must have a trust fund as big as my Hapsburg jaw.

I’ve seen these kinds of sneers before. People take one look at the long name and decide that’s enough to discount my perspective. Liam Heitmann-Ryce-LeMercier: what a wanker.

It makes me wonder if this is an issue specifically within Australia. Other cultures, like those in India and Sri Lanka, adopt long surnames to reflect lineage and geography as a core aspect of their identity. Is it because my obviously “white-sounding” name doesn’t have Asian roots that it’s less acceptable to have more than 10 letters in it?

In Spain, custom sees children adopt the surnames of both parents, as a point of pride and a reflection of family heritage. If I were to have children of my own in this country, I question whether I could pass on my own surnames in light of the closed-mindedness I have experienced already.

The discomfort of being shunned for having a surname that is hard to spell and difficult to pronounce, is ultimately what pushes people to abandon their heritage. This is the result of attitudes that favour simplicity over cultural significance, where the preference is placed on Smith rather than Schmidt.

Other countries proudly present their long, “difficult” surnames as an important component of their familial history – but not Australia. And this is why I want to keep my name the way it is.

For all the flack I get for this name, for all of the snarky comments on social media, and the hiring managers who show little interest in how to pronounce LeMercier, I am going to keep it.

This name is my guidepost.

I don’t know where I am going, but I know where I have come from. Those before me came an awful long way to build a better life for themselves in unfamiliar settings, and I intend to do the same. Even if my connection to them doesn’t easily fit on a name tag at networking events.

Liam Heitmann-Ryce-LeMercier is a freelance writer and editor based in Melbourne.

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