My Name

Gabriel Nopodon Martin

That is my full name. I just realized that many people don’t know that. My own family, the white part, probably does not know that – my Dad being an exception. A few close friends and my wife does and I think that’s about it.

Nopodon is my middle name. It is Thai, my Mother gave it to me. “NOH’ Pa’ Dohn” is the pronunciation that I have heard and always used. From my research it stems from a favorite court poet from one of the older Siamese Kings. This is conjecture though as I was never able to find a citation on that and I am in full understanding that people like to put all kinds of meaning in a name, we’re human and always looking for deeper meaning and connection to something grand. The only current person of note with the name is Noppadon Pattama, a rather infamous politician and lawyer connected to the deposed Thaskin. Right now I’m pretty good with “It’s Thai and my Mom liked it.” Google is not a good place to find info on non-Occidental things without drilling extremely deep. Vikings all day long, Siamese history you need to bring a lantern and some good shovels.

A lot of our identities are wound up in our names. This is standard through time and cultures. All kinds of nuances there. I believe our given names are important, the ones given at birth. No woo woo behind it, just important. Exotic and special or not, our birth names is about as much as we “own” so we need to cherish that. When we die it’s what is left of us.

I did try to obfuscate my middle name in the past. No shame and nothing embarrassing, it’s more about going down that tunnel. I tired of the conversation starting around 10 years old. On top of that there was a very real chance of getting my ass kicked for being a “boat people” in Vancouver, WA in the 70s and 80s. Viet Nam was still stuck in some folks’ craw and SE Asian immigrant-hate made it worse. I was lucky in that many identified me as Hispanic and it wasn’t as bad for them at the time. I mean – I’m kind of brown and my “public” name was “Gabriel Martin” and most white folks equate that to Hispanic. Google “Gabriel Martin” and see how many Hispanics pop up.

This, in and of itself, poses problems in a white dominated society which I will not go to far into here. Anecdote though:
I got pulled over on my bicycle coming home from work in 2006. I ran a yellow light. The police officer, reading my name on my ID, said to me, “Do you know why I stopped you Mr. Martinez?” His mind super-imposed an “ez” to the end of my last name. He thought I was Hispanic. Though it clearly said MARTIN on my license and he was obviously literate his mind turned it into MARTINEZ. The mind is an incredible and flawed thing.

So I avoided saying or explaining my middle name. I still do unless the floor is open for a discussion. The only real use of it in my adult life was being in the monastery in Thailand in 2000. The monks there asked me what my name was and I told them Gabriel Martin. They messed around with that some and then I told them my Thai nickname was “Oowon” which means “fat boy”. They laughed but one of the other monks was already called that. Then I remembered I have a Thai name, Nopodon. So they called me Pra-Nopodon. So far it is the only time in my life my middle name was used. Surprisingly it felt good to answer to “Nopodon”. It felt good that there was no discussion or explanation, it was what people used to refer to me, I answered to it, and it finally felt like it was mine.

Another big belief I have is the organics of a name. In that I mean your name must be given. Nick name, legal name, whatever – choosing your name just don’t sit right with me. Sometimes you just have to but it’s always best for others (as long as they are reasonable people for your situation) to give you a name. I scoff at professional athletes that pick their own nicknames. If we all did that we’d all have nicknames like “Howitzer Fist” or “Silent Death”. It’s good for your ego to have a little bit of a self-deprecating name.

This whole bit is not a ploy to get anyone to call me Nopodon, it’s more an admission of my own faults and felling about my own name. A lot of this is also a realization of my own past now that I am in my “middle age”. About as much of a mid-life crisis I’ll get I suppose.