Sumaira

Sumaira

My name, Sumaira, means ‘princess’ or ‘successful”, but it can also mean “brownish”. I tend to go with the “princess” part; not because I am a princess in any sense, but because, who can define “success”? And there are so many shades of brown we identify with, what is “brown” to whom?

Our names have deep meanings we relate to on a spiritual level. We search for the perfect name, with attributes we hope the bearer will take on. Often, incorrect pronunciation can change those meanings into something else entirely; trying to explain these meanings and correct pronunciation can be difficult and sometimes tedious, so we tend to just let it be. However, when I hear that another newborn has been named Mohammad, I know exactly why he has been given that name. Mohammad is a name that bears much significance in my life. We follow the teachings of the Prophet Mohammad (Peace and Blessings be upon him), and it was the name of my amazing and loving father, and his father before him, and his father before him. I come from many Mohammad’s. The name is a connection to my religion, to my family, and to my roots.

I was named by my father's younger sister. My aunt was in college when my mother was expecting me. She was tutoring three young girls after hours whom she adored. Their names were Sumaira, Mehreen, and Sadaf. She loved Sumaira most of all for her sweet disposition and sunny smile. When I was born, she insisted I be named Sumaira, in hopes that I may have the same attributes as the little girl she taught. I was her little princess and I am still very close to my aunt today.

My name connects me to the beautiful country of Pakistan. Although the name has an Arabic background, I have never heard of any Sumaira’s anywhere but in Pakistan. I used to keep my Pakistani identity, my Muslim identity, and my Canadian identity separate from each other. It was a different time when I was growing up; the 80’s were brutal, 90’s less so, but we were “other” and it was difficult to be confident in the faces we wore. Things have changed a lot since then, we see more of “ourselves” everywhere and some kind of tolerance — if not acceptance — for who we are; we no longer have to disguise ourselves. My identities have happily melded into the one I wear today.