Fifteen years ago I decided to change my name in order to survive in the business world: Saeed became Sam.
As I wrote for Fairfax Media, I was looking for a job and just changed my name on my CV. I became Sam at work and Saeed among family and friends.
![Saeed Fassaie was concerned his change of name would confuse colleagues and clients.](/web/20170216104707im_/http://www.theage.com.au/content/dam/images/g/t/m/8/7/s/image.related.articleLeadwide.620x349.guc4gm.png/1487169266092.jpg)
But earlier this year I decided to revert to my birth name. Those around me were warmly supportive, but my own feelings were a different matter: the whole process proved to be surprisingly challenging.
The night before I made the change I couldn't sleep. I felt a strong sense of deja vu; the same feelings of helplessness and insecurity that had prompted me to alter my name in the first place. Would my change of name confuse my colleagues and clients? Was I going to face potential embarrassment? I had no idea how people would react.
Fortunately, when I visited my general manager seeking his advice and asking his approval for the use of my birth name he supported me wholeheartedly. But the more I thought about it, the more uncertain I became.
Everything about the name I used at work seemed right. Almost all my colleagues called me Sammy, and I believed the name had helped me forge a connection with them. It wasn't the name itself, rather the sincerity with which they said it, the affectionate ending they'd added, and the sense of belonging it gave me. How could Saeed ever replace Sammy?
The only way to go back to Saeed seemed to be to find a new job, but I liked my job and my colleagues. The more I thought about it, the more reluctant I became to alter my name at work. It seemed too complicated. I almost convinced myself that I couldn't do it.
A week later, I decided to watch a movie that my wife had borrowed from the library: The Danish Girl. It was an epiphany of sorts.
The real-life story of Einar Wegener, a famous painter who transformed into a woman – Lili Elbe – the first person to undergo gender-reassignment surgery.
For the first time I understood that no one would risk so much alienation, danger and agony to look different or be different unless it was vitally important to them.
I felt an uncanny connection with her. Another sleepless night forced me to re-evaluate my circumstances. My challenges seemed far less daunting.
On the following day the HR manager helped me to set up a transition plan and my manager started using Saeed in internal correspondence, which was reassuring. After my new business card was printed we set a date for altering my first name in the computer system. I decided to speak with each of my colleagues and inform them personally. However, for my clients, I could see no option other than to email them.
Initially, confusion reigned and some of the encounters were hilarious. As design manager, I can manage the design of more than 25 projects. With the smaller projects I decided not to complicate matters by introducing my new old name, because these projects would be wrapped up quickly and there was no point causing confusion.
A couple of weeks after my name change, a builder on one of these projects called me, sounding very upset, complaining that Sam hadn't replied to his urgent queries. Despite being caught off guard, I replied, "Oh I'm sorry. This is not good. I'll speak to Sam about it. And don't worry, I'll respond to your queries myself today!"
Another client who had received emails from both Sam and Saeed was curious to know my relationship with Sam. "Sam is my cousin, but he no longer works here. He left last month!"
There were also multiple cases of confusion in the office. After my name change, the general manager came to my office to praise me for my decision: "Sam, hi. I'm glad you've started using your birth name – Saeed, great – well done, Sam!"
I know it may take months for colleagues and clients to call me Saeed without having to think about it, but I'm truly happy that I have now contributed to diversity and tolerance, which are part of the essence of Australian identity.
From my first year in Australia I've striven to learn about its history, language, culture, politics and people, and my Australian citizenship has become an integral part of my identity, just like my name, Saeed.
Beginning to use my birth name in the office, seeing the responses of those around me, has made me feel more at home, and even more Australian.
Saeed Fassaie is the author of Rising From The Shadows and a design manager at SRG Limited.
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