I found this statement somewhere. (But of course, it’s not just somewhere.) Someone described herself with this:

I hate people whose names have the letter H in their names randomly inserted to it, like in Mhe-Ann and Rhon. It’s just uncalled for. It pisses me off.

The first time I read it, I gasped, “What did I do to her?”

To all who don’t know, Yoshke is just a pen name. My real name is quite common but (yes, you guessed it right) it has an H randomly inserted to it. Like Mhe-Ann. Or Rhon.

I don’t even know the girl, yet she hates me for my name. Of course, my first reaction was “It’s not my fault. I didn’t choose my name.” But the more I think about it, the more I realize that it wasn’t my parents’ fault either. Or anyone’s. It isn’t a fault at all. What’s so annoying with a randomly inserted H, really?

But then, I can’t blame anyone who hates people who have the letter H in their names where there shouldn’t be. After all, I have my own share of irrational hatred. For one, I hate cooked carrots. It’s yummy and delicious and orange. But I hate it for no reason at all. My friends say I discriminate cooked carrots but I can’t help despising it.

However, I’m not a cooked carrot. I’m not a fresh carrot, either. I’m a human being whose name has a randomly inserted H, the letter in question. If H were alive, it must also be crying, “What did I do?” What did I do to piss off someone so much that she used it to describe herself in something so valuable.

I’m sure I’m not alone. In my circle of friends alone, many have misplaced or unnecessary Hs in their names. We all know how difficult it is to live by a name unconventional or too jologs for others. Many of us almost cursed our mothers for the torture they brought us the moment they bestowed our names upon us. But at the end of the day, we just laugh it off.

This world need names to work. When you look for a drug in your medicine cabinet, the first thing you check is the label — the name of the drug — so you know you get the right one. You see, you look at the label to know the content. That’s why we love labels — Lacoste, Zara, Gucci, Apple, Intel, sale, toxic, bio-degradable, recyclables, barbiturates, donation for Ondoy victims, beware of dogs, warning: hot surface. Labels are useful.

You see, the H in my name was once useful to me, too. For example, when I was still studying, my professors would easily notice my odd name. When it’s recitation time, my name would always be called. That strenuous H drew too much attention to my name, forcing me to study and work hard. If it weren’t for that nasty H, I might have slacked off. I might have become someone else. I might not have been me.

Oh yes, names are labels, too. But what one’s name doesn’t do is tell you one’s content. Names with a pasaway H may be anything but that doesn’t tell you anything about that person. You can use the label “jologs” to the name but not necessarily to the person who owns it. That H doesn’t tell you anything, does it? You can’t use that H to describe a person much less judge him.

I have a friend named Mhark who is probably the richest among my friends and he is far from jologs.

My friend Jho-Ann singlehandedly raised her siblings because her mom is deceased and her dad invalid.

Rhon saved one of his kid neighbors from a fire that devoured their house.

Jhong is one of the best software developers I know.

Rhia set up her own travel agency that is doing pretty well now.

Dohna even won Best Thesis among the our batch at the UP Film Institute.

You can condemn these people for their names all you want. But the respect I have for them for what they do and who they are is bigger than all the hate and disgust towards their names. Irrational hate is dangerous in ways that people in history hated “the blacks,” “the slaves,” “the heretics,” and “the witches.”

It’s true what they say, you can’t judge a book by its cover. Much less by its title, or name. The same applies to people.

So why is it that Filipinos love inserting an H to their names randomly. What does it do to the name? The answer is quite simple, really. Like how my friend Dohna put it, the H makes the difference.

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