The Name-esis

I've always had my name to myself. Until now.

Nov 28, 2023

Much like one of my writing heroes,

, I have a nemesis. I’ve followed Gay’s nemesis saga for years, reveling in the professional comparison and the one-upmanship. Unlike Gay, though, I’m small potatoes. I can’t even really assess my nemesis’s work, and don’t have any competition with her . So why is she my nemesis? Simple: her name is also Noha.

Now, if you’re a Mike, say, or an Alex, you’re used to having people around with the same name as you. Not if you’re a Noha. I’ve been working in an office since March, 2005, and until about a year ago, I have stood as the only Noha in every large (and small) organization where I’ve worked. Sure, I’d occasionally get emails and packages intended for various Noahs, and I’d get messages addressed to Mr. Beshir, but if you spelled my name correctly — N-O-H-A — in any directory, I was it. The First. The ONLY. The OG.

My first hint that another Noha had arrived on the scene was about this time last year. I was heading up to the mailroom to pick up a pair of headphones ordered FOR ME for our endless video-conferences (yay for in-office work that is almost all conducted on videoconference 🙄 - but I digress). The guy looked at my badge and said nope, he couldn’t give me the headphones. Why? Because it wasn’t my name on the package. Seems whoever had done the ordering had hit autocomplete and accidentally listed THE OTHER NOHA as the rightful recipient of said headphones. Not a big deal. Headphone snafu quickly resolved with a couple of emails. However. HOWEVER!! My pride was not as easily placated.

THE OTHER NOHA is thin, blonde, and very pleasant. She has a PhD in something impressive. She’s a colleague around my level in the professional hierarchy, but she’s motivated and on a track to move on up. I, on the other hand, am happy with my seniority. I have no management ambitions, which means, surely, soon enough she’ll be my boss! THE OTHER NOHA volunteers for the social committee and may start an Arab women’s network. I know this because she asked if I wanted to co-lead it with her.

Perhaps most upsetting, THE OTHER NOHA was thrilled to finally have someone with the same name at the same workplace, while my sensibilities were offended at the mere thought of it. We met for coffee a couple of months ago, just two Nohas comparing notes and making alliances. When I saw your name in the company address book I was so pleased, she told me. I told my husband, finally! I’ve never had another Noha at work.

Well, that’s it, I thought to myself. I’m the bad Noha. I’m the cranky curmudgeonly Noha. I tried to figure out how to tell her I’d invented a competition between us and told all my work friends to pick sides. Would she realize I was joking? That my jokes were petty and it was just a fun way to pass the time? I mumbled something about the joke but didn’t fully commit, afraid she would misunderstand. I enjoy snark. What if THE OTHER NOHA doesn’t?

On our team group chat, I rail about the wrongly addressed headphones, THE OTHER NOHA’s overall wonderfulness, people doing a double take when they come to my desk looking for her.

“I’m not ready to be a Chris!” I tell Chris, my colleague, who shares his name with 7 other Chrises in our Sector.

They mollify my ego, call me Noha Prime, Noha The First, OG Noha.

Not content to confuse people in the address book, THE OTHER NOHA moves into my branch. I go from having been 1 in 6000 to becoming 2 in 45. My unicorn status is destroyed. I am no longer special 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭.

a couple of sheep standing on top of a grass covered field — It’s a good thing I’m not a twin because I clearly would not deal - Photo by Jørgen Håland on Unsplash

All my life, I’ve wanted a more common name. When I was little, I wanted to be a Jessica or a Melissa. As I got older, I resented the fact that when people messed my name up, they called me Noah instead of Noha. I remember my husband — a man with the world’s most common name, Mohamed — turning to me when we were naming our first baby, with a look of disbelief on his face. “You don’t actually like your name, do you?” And I told him the truth: I didn’t.

My name never made it into TV shows, or onto t-shirts. I couldn’t buy a keychain with Noha written on it anywhere. What I didn’t realize I did like was the fact that having such an uncommon name made me unique. Everywhere I worked, I was the only Noha there. And as a major people pleaser who had built a solid reputation at work, I liked the recognition.

When I first started working, fresh out of university, I was the only Arab, practically the only minority, for years. It was odd in an IT setting, especially after a university program where it sometimes felt like half the kids were Arab and the other half were Indian, but I settled in nicely. Work and school had always been primarily white settings for me. Community and brownness happened at home. They were extra-curricular, afterhours, something that I did at the mosque or at weekend picnics, where we grilled halal burgers and raised money for the Muslim cemetery or the Islamic school renovations.

Slowly though, work became more diverse. It happened while I wasn’t paying attention. In 2020 I changed jobs and walked into a very diverse environment. Three years later, when I went back to my old office, it felt like, suddenly, Arabs were everywhere. And it was all fine until THE OTHER NOHA arrived. Or, I should tell the truth? It was fine until I realized she was there, because she’d joined the office while I was away. When I came back, I was the second one! I, the OG, had been usurped.

So what’s the lesson here? Maybe it’s the fact that the grass is always greener and all that. If I was a Melissa I’d be dealing with hundreds of other thin, blonde, PhD having Other Melissas daily! The name I’ve never liked turns out to be something I’m very protective of, something I’m reluctant to share.

My nemesis doesn’t know how I feel about her, but this story might tip her off if she sees it. Noha, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry. But on the bright side, at least you know that if anyone compares us, you come off looking great!

Sincerely,
Noha The First

Have you ever had a nemesis? Does your nemesis know that they’re you nemesis? Do you find snark makes the work day go by faster?

Letters from a Muslim Woman

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