Squat, Lee and Linton: Names and identity in today's Korea
At the beginning of my first Spanish class in my London secondary school, our teacher set about giving us Spanish names. If I remember correctly, she dubbed me Miguel. I felt then, aged circa 11-13 years old, and I still feel now that this was a waste of time: I am not Spanish and never will be. Her bid to foist this Iberian moniker on me was actually an attempt to create a new identity for me, one completely out of kilter with reality. It was made even more ludicrous by the fact that she was also my French teacher. Was I to be Miguel one hour and Pierre the next?
