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Why British awkwardness can make it tough having a foreign name

From being given a curious stare to having your CV overlooked, having an ethnic name can bring out the worst in British awkwardness.

The Joseph Rowntree Foundation published its reaction this week to the recent British Social Attitudes Survey results, concluding that racial prejudice is “bad economics”. The piece also remarks upon a DWP study that showed people with “names associated with ethnic minority groups” were almost a third less likely to be called for a job interview than someone with a ‘White British’ name.

In fact, there are examples of people changing the name they put at the top of their CVs in order to aid them in their job hunts. Only last year, Virgin Atlantic was taken to an employment tribunal by a man called Max Kpakio, who claimed they had turned him down because of his name, as they accepted him when he reapplied under the name "Craig Owen". (Although he eventually lost the tribunal, because he'd changed more than just his name on the second application).

As someone without a ‘White British’ name – though, as it’s Armenian, I suppose it is the very definition of Caucasian – this brought to mind the various implications of having a foreign name in modern Britain. Among decent people, these are mainly socially awkward, often superficial, repercussions, but it’s easy to see how they could filter up to a prospective employer’s mindset. It's the British propensity for wanting an easy life. A seemingly innocuous, often endearing attitude. But not when it means avoiding someone because their name's a bit funny.

First, pronunciation. This is a factor that plays out a splurge of Britain’s neuroses in one botched jumble of syllables. Working out how to converse with a stranger, while constantly feeling on the brink of offending them. With different accents involved. It’s just one big two-way apology.

Because if we’re going to start a conversation with someone new – already a highly unsavoury idea for many of us, let’s admit – a supposedly difficult name makes this minefield even trickier to navigate. And then we have to make sure we remember the name in question, as it would be unthinkable to slip into terms of endearment (“Mate”) or the weird gender-political mess of “Sir” and “Miss” – these options are conveniently anonymous, but too despicable to contemplate for a decent professional human person.

And then once you’ve met someone with a foreign name – particularly if you’ve read it rather than heard it from the scary, cosmopolitan horse’s mouth – how to ensure you pronounce it correctly? We couldn’t possibly ask. That would require a potentially awkward conversational opener. So people generally just go for it, eyes forward, resolutely spluttering through each impossible syllable, or avoid the issue completely.

I’ve encountered this problem of politeness in all sorts of contexts: missing a doctor’s appointment for not recognising my mispronounced name being called; a family I stayed with on holiday consistently calling me “Louche” for the entirety of my stay (when I hadn’t once lounged on their chaise longue); the presenter on Radio 5 Live soldiering through an interview repeatedly addressing me as “Anoosh Shake-a-Line”. Which is not how it’s pronounced, but meant a more amusing 10.45pm weekday news slot for my listening friends, at least.

Essentially, it’s the conversational equivalent of when BBC newsreaders take a deep breath and just power through those ambiguously pronounced names that crop up from time to time. Boko Haram. Sven-Goran Eriksson. Gaddafi. Farage.

But mispronunciation isn’t the biggest problem. It’s usually by the politically correct and polite people who just want to say your name with minimal fuss; their hearts are in the right place, even if their diphthongs aren’t. No. It’s the “oo-er, that’s exotic” aspect that’s worse. Because introduce yourself to someone with perhaps more Ukippy credentials than you’d hope, and you’ll usually receive the response:

“So where are you from?”

To which I take great pleasure in replying “London”, and watching them nod bemusedly, their eyes betraying insurmountable confusion that I haven’t regaled them apologetically with tales of a journey from the harsh plains of Anatolia to Zone 3.

These irritating, occasionally vaguely xenophobic, social implications of having a foreign name in Britain aren’t nearly as bad as being declined for a job interview on account of it. But it’s worth remembering that awkwardness in conversation could easily translate to awkwardness in considering CVs. And that, mate, is discrimination.

Anoosh Chakelian is deputy web editor at the New Statesman.

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Netflix’s Gilmore Girls trailer is here – but could the new series disappoint fans?

The new trailer does give us some clues about what November might hold in store.

The new Gilmore Girls trailer is here, clocking up over a million views in just hours. Netflix also offers a release date for the new four-part mini-series, Gilmore Girls: A Year In The Life – 25 November 2016.

It is, of course, ridiculous to judge a 6-hour-long series on just over a minute of footage, but the new trailer does give us some clues about what November might hold in store.

We open with a series of nostalgia-driven shots of Stars Hollow in different seasons set to familiar la-las – the church spire in the snow, Luke’s Diner in spring, the Dragonfly Inn in summer, and the (pumpkin-festooned) bandstand in autumn – before zooming in on Lorelai’s house, the central setting of the show for seven seasons.

“Seasons may change, but some things never will,” read the title cards. These moments feel as though they could have been lifted straight out of the original series – what GG fan won’t feel some wistfulness and excitement watching them?

Then we cut to Rory and Lorelai sat at their kitchen table, surrounded by pink pop tarts, the music ending abruptly as Lorelai asks, “Do you think Amy Schumer would like me?” If it’s meant to make a contrast with the more expected opening that preceded it, it does. Rory and Lorelai run through the reasons why not (she loves water sports), Rory pointedly interrupts the conversation to start googling one of her mother’s trademark obscure references on her iPhone. Welcome to Gilmore Girls in 2016, with updated references and technology to match!

It feels too on-the-nose, a bit “I’m not like a regular Gilmore Girl, I’m a cool Gilmore Girl”. One of the funniest things about the proliferation of pop culture references in the original series was how un-trendy they were: including nods to Happy Days, The Menendez Brothers, West Side Story, Ruth Gordon, Grey Gardens, Paul Anka, Tina Louise, John Hughes movies, Frank Capra, and Angela Lansbury. It suited the small town out of time they lived in, and gave the sense that Rory and Lorelai, with their unusually close relationship, had their own special language.

Name-dropping Amy Schumer and John Oliver feels out of step with this. But, of course, there’s no evidence that this tonal shift will be a prominent element in the new series. So much of the trailer feels perfectly in keeping with the old show: the corpse flower line, the terrible fashion sense, the snacks dotted around every scene. Reading an actual physical paper in 2016 seems extremely Gilmore.

I still have some questions (Why are there three vases of flowers in shot? Who believes Lorelai Gilmore would put pop tarts on plates?) but overall, I’m keen to see where the show takes Rory and Lorelai next. I will follow!!!

Anna Leszkiewicz is a pop culture writer at the New Statesman.