Why I’ve Reclaimed My Full Name At Work — & You Should Too

“You can just call me Dana.”

That’s how I’ve always started conversations. Moving from school to school as a biracial Defence Force Kid, and then from university into various jobs in my early 20s, I wanted to make it as easy as possible to make friends and form connections – and forming those connections certainly never involved breaking down my name.

You see, my name’s not that difficult. Danaella. Invented by my dad by creatively swapping the I in Daniella for an A, it’s pronounced like two names mashed together: Dana and Ella. But seeing the vowels squashed up together has always given people pause. 

I get it. Most people have only ever seen the letters A and E next to each other in curriculum vitae. It looks unusual and that can feel scary.  

That’s why I always laughed as people stumbled over my name, insisting that “just Dana” is fine. I’ll still react to Daniella. And I know, Donatella really isn’t that far off my name.

Being a person of colour in a predominantly white society, you get used to making yourself smaller for the ease of others. It’s easier to fit in, to lean into the bittersweet privilege of being white-passing, to be part of the group if you have a name that’s easy to say. And so I spent my childhood and my teen years railing against being my full self — because my full self can be challenging for the people around me.

But in university, I had to make a choice. I was studying journalism and staring down the barrel of a career with a public byline. I had to pick a name to have attached to my work forever, to go into print, to be the tagline on the end of reports. The idea of shortening my name felt like cheating myself — like I was putting all of this hard work into only honouring half of me. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was the start of a years-long move towards reclaiming my full name.

At first, it was just for my byline. Danaella Wivell would sit under headlines, but my emails would end in Dana and my phone calls would start with “Hi, this is Dana” and I would shake the hands of new acquaintances and tell them that they could “just call me Dana”.

I got used to this pattern and I routinely diminished myself to fit the mould. 

And then Covid hit.

Spending week after week alone in my house, with no company but my own thoughts, I started delving into my identity. I would learn TikTok dances in my living room to break up my existential crisis. I would do lunges across the kitchen and fantasise about my future — a future that didn’t include the phrase “just call me Dana”.

I ruminated on a powerful Uzo Aduba quote: “My mom taught me not to change my name for those unwilling to learn it. ‘If they can learn to say Tchaikovsky, Dostoyevsky, and Michelangelo, they can learn to say Uzoamaka’.”

I revisited the Kamala Harris video from when she became the US vice president, where a group of small children taught the masses how to pronounce her name. If a small child could say Kamala, then surely the adults in my life could pronounce Danaella.

I decided I liked the idea of owning my name. I didn’t want to make my name smaller — or myself by extension. So I made the decision to reclaim it.

It was easy in my personal life. I taught my friends how to say my name and watched with pride as they corrected each other – it’s not Daniella! It’s Danaella! – and I introduced myself on dates with my full name. But there was one transition that gave me pause: work.

Tackling the transition from nickname to full name at work started small. I started signing off my emails using my full name. This caught the attention of my manager, who pulled me aside and asked me to teach him how to pronounce my name correctly. He then advocated for me, using my full name in meetings, during phone calls. Soon the people in my office started chiming in, asking how to pronounce my name. They’d challenge each other to get it right. Through those conversations, I felt encouraged to start answering the phone and introducing myself to new colleagues with my full name. In the beginning, it was scary. But as the months passed, it became easier and I felt more confident. It turns out that I love being me in full.

I’m now two years into reclaiming my name, and I’d recommend it to everyone. It’s empowering. It’s emboldening. It feels great. There's a sense of calm that comes with owning who you are. So if you’re in the same boat and you want to reclaim your name at work, here’s what to do.

It can be nerve-racking to suddenly start introducing yourself with a new name. Instead of jumping in feet first, you can transition into using your new name in smaller ways. I started by singing off my emails using my full name, but you can try answering the phone or introducing yourself to new colleagues using your full name.

Your work friends are your greatest allies, so make sure they’re in the loop. Having even one person in your corner who can advocate for you will make all the difference. Go for a walk or grab a coffee and let them know you’re making this change. They’ll be able to back you up and help you in any uncomfortable situations that might crop up during your name transition.

There will be people who pronounce your name incorrectly or who will ask if they can just keep calling you by your nickname. Be gentle, but reaffirm that this is your name and you’d appreciate it if they could make the effort to get it right. Most people will be happy to try again so they can nail it.

There’s no blanket rule about using your full name. You might decide that it’s okay if people call you by your nickname sometimes, or that it’s easier to use your nickname over the phone rather than your full name. At the end of the day, it’s your name and it’s your choice about how it’s said. You get to decide who you are when you face the world. You make the rules.