When I first came to the United States, I was forced to accept my new name, which was FNU. It was not my nickname nor an immigration category. It was my actual name in America. FNU is an abbreviation for First Name Unknown. I first saw these letters on my US immigration forms as  I was answering various questions with the help of my parents. I asked them what the letters meant, but they didn’t have an answer. All they said was, “Let’s worry about it after you have arrived in the United States.” I understood why they said that as I was almost twenty-two years of age and was only a few days from losing my (IR-2) Immediate Relative status. I was so busy with applying to college and with immigrating, that I took their word. Little did I know it was an error that would cause me a world of trouble in the United States.

Being given the name FNU happened because my name was wrongly hand-written on my passport. In India, before the introduction of computer entry, everything was hand written. The Indian official who had issued me my passport didn’t understand the difference between a given name and a surname. As a result, my given name was left blank, and I was issued a passport with my full name in the space for the surname. The officer at the US embassy must have felt pity at my nameless condition and put my given name as FNU on my visa. At least that’s what I would like to believe now.

After being in the US for two weeks, one day I heard my dad shout excitedly, which frightened me. I thought he was being attacked by a bear or raccoon, and I ran outside through the garage, grabbing a wrench on my way. My dad saw me and started laughing. I asked him what had happened, and he said, “Your permanent resident card is in the mail.” I was excited to see it, and I opened the envelope. It looked beautiful except for the fact that the letters FNU, which were on my immigration papers, were also on the card as my first name. My first, last, and middle names had become my last name. My dad consoled me, saying, “We will correct it at the social security office tomorrow.”

I got up early that morning, made myself a coffee, and decided to rehearse my conversation in the mirror. As I had extensive training in theater and voice, I decided to speak in a thick Indian accent to convince the officer of my helplessness. I imagined it would make me look humbler. I practiced my speech for an hour before getting into my dad’s car. When we reached the office, I heard people sneezing and others replying, “Bless You.” I did not know the expression was associated with sneezing. Instead, I assumed that the expression was a polite way to start a conversation. When my number appeared on the screen, I went to the officer, and initiated the conversation by saying “bless you.” He gave me a weird look and thanked me. I explained the situation to the officer exactly as I had practiced. After looking at my passport and visa, he replied in a friendly manner, “After you get your name changed on these two documents, I will be more than happy to write it  in a way you want.” I was heartbroken. I told my dad and we both decided to go home. On my way out, I ran to the officer and said, “Bless you.” He looked scared. My dad asked me what I had told him, and after I explained, he burst out laughing and then explained the phrase.

When I Googled the FNU issue and started asking questions online, I soon became terrified. Most people who had this issue were denied a driver’s license as the names in various documents didn’t match. Some were even unable to open a bank account because of this error. I was in so much fear and agony. I began to have nightmares about how my life in America would turn out. One day I gathered the little courage I had and decided to apply for a driver’s license. I went to the DMV with my head bowed.

When the woman at the counter looked at the names, my heart stopped, and I felt dizzy. After carefully looking at the documents for a while, she punched in my name, and I was issued a driver’s license with the same FNU error. I was overjoyed and praised God for this miracle. After the DMV miracle, all my documents were issued with the same error. Even though I was disappointed that I still had FNU as my first name, I said to myself, “At least something good is happening.”

I applied for many jobs and a couple of applications were rejected because of the FNU issue. Some employers who interviewed me didn’t know what to call me, and I had to explain the situation with a smile. This was a frustrating and  a humiliating experience. I finally got a job at West Point as a cashier. They desperately wanted a cashier, so they didn’t care. After going through a lot of trauma, I decided to accept my fate and move on with a wrong name.

After a year and a half, my family and I decided to return to India for a vacation. While in India, I made an appointment to renew my passport. Even though I was scared, I gathered my courage and asked the official if he could issue my passport without the error. He was very helpful and  entered the information correctly on a computer and showed me what the passport would look when it was issued. I was overjoyed to finally be issued a passport with my correct name.

When I returned to the US after my vacation, I was filled with positivity and was motivated to get my other documents rectified. My first  assignment was to get my permanent resident card corrected. I completed the paperwork and went to the NYC immigration office with my brother. They corrected the information in the system and then told me to get a stamp on my passport to use as a temporary document. A couple of days later, after calling the office over a hundred times, I scheduled an appointment to get the stamp. The stamp was crucial in getting all my documents corrected, which I did in the days that followed.

After nine months of waiting, my permanent resident card arrived in the mail. I was in my room watching a movie when my dad asked me to get the mail. Seeing the US immigration letter tightly packed in with the rest of the mail, I became nervous. Then I opened the package. As I held the card in my hand, a tear drop rolled down my cheek and fell on the card. I ran into my house shouting, “Success! Success!”

The name FNU exists only in my memories now. I sometimes miss FNU as that was my name for three years. My family never lets me forget the name as my mom and dad call me FNU to tease me. Now that the whole incident is over, and as I look back at the long path and trials I had to go through, I feel as if I have truly earned my immigration to the United States.