At Pizza Pizza, Starbucks, and the photo store down my street, my name is Sara. It’s not a lie. It’s my middle name. It’s easy to spell. It’s “normal.” As I approach 20, I find myself thinking more about what this word “normal” means. A few months ago, I read a three-year-old piece by Toronto writer Shailee Koranne, called, My Name Was Anglicized — But I’m Taking It Back. In this essay, Koranne highlights the microaggressive…
