In the past few months, a few (happless victims) new folks have been commenting on my blog, and it occurred to me the other day that I’ve never met some of them in person.  In fact, most of you have never met me, I think.  Unless my husband, Adam or Britt have subscribed over 240 times in a concerted effort to make me feel better about myself.  In which case, wow, guys, thanks.

Anyway, my name is Faiqa.

Yes, that is my real name.

It’s pronounced, “Fike-ah.”

Well, actually, no.  It’s pronounced “FaiQ-ah.”

The difference, and yes, there is one, is that a “k” in transliterated Arabic has a softer sound than “q.”

A lot of people don’t realize this, as evidenced by their spelling of, say, “Qu’ran/Quran.”  It’s not really “Koran,” you know.  Unless you’re a nineteenth century British lord who wants to pontificate on the superstitious beliefs of the natives in a long and boring narrative aimed at justifying the colonization of the subcontinent.  Speaking of boring.  Ahem.

(Okay, I also have to add that I’m not entirely sure if “Koran” could be considered technically incorrect.  I just know that it’s not pronounced that way.  Just like we’re not “Moslems,” either.)

Actually?  I don’t even pronounce my name correctly.  Because, I don’t feel like teaching non-Arabic speakers how to say the gutteral “k” sound every.single.time someone asks me my name.

I say it like this, “Fike-ah.”

Faiqa means “superior” or “excellent.”  Naturally.

I’ve been asked a few times if anyone has ever given me a hard time about my name.  Short answer?  Yes.  But, that’s okay.  This name?  I love it.  It defines me in so many ways.  Not just because of its meaning, but because it’s always set me apart from people… in a good way.

So, yeah, my name is Faiqa.

Nice to meet you.