I’ve never liked the English spelling of my Chinese surname, 徐: “Hsu.”

The same surname is romanized completely differently depending on where you are:

  • In Taiwan, it’s “Hsu”
  • In mainland China, it’s “Xu”
  • In Hong Kong, it’s “Tsui”
  • In Southeast Asia, you might see “See,” “Chee,” “Chui,” “Choi,” or any number of spellings passed down through families and dialects

There’s no consistency. It’s like how Pokémon once had three different names across three Chinese-speaking regions: every place did its own thing.

When I wanted to build a personal brand around my name, I struggled with this. If I were only writing for Taiwan, it would be fine. But if I wanted to reach a more international audience, Chinese speakers outside Taiwan wouldn’t know what “Hsu” was, and native English speakers wouldn’t have a clue how to pronounce it.

Whoever designed these romanization systems clearly never did any user testing. Isn’t the whole point of a romanized name to have something you can use when introducing yourself abroad?

I often wondered: why is my surname so hard to pronounce, no matter how you spell it?

I envied people with simple surnames.

Every famous international brand named after an Asian person seems easy to pronounce.

Take “Alexander Wang.” So simple. So easy to say. No wonder he could use his own name for a fashion brand.

Or “Jimmy Choo.” Even “Choo” is easier to pronounce than “Hsu,” and it sounds kind of cute.

But what if the brand were called “Alex Hsu”?

Outside Taiwan, even the store clerk might not be able to say it correctly.

Still, I know I could have it worse. Back when I was at Facebook, I had a Taiwanese coworker whose English name used an old, nonstandard romanization: “**** Yauer.” I don’t know if this bothered him as much as it bothered me, but every time a new coworker tried to pronounce his name, I held my breath for him.

Eventually, everyone in the group chat just called him “Yao,” using the Hanyu Pinyin spelling.

Teaching a native English speaker to pronounce “Hsu” is nearly impossible. I’ve heard “Huh-soo” and “Hah-soo.” I’ve also heard “Shhhhh.” To avoid the awkwardness, I always tell people in advance: it’s supposed to be pronounced 徐—roughly “shoo”—but just call me “Shoe.”

“I’m Shoe. Alex Shoe.”

Turning myself into an item of footwear just so people can pronounce my name. Isn’t that a little sad? (laughs)

After ten years in the US and two in Japan, I ran into the same problem every time I introduced myself. Then, a few years ago, I read an essay by my hero Derek Sivers in his book Hell Yeah or No. He said that when making big decisions, we should consider three things:

  • HAPPY: What makes you happy?
  • SMART: What’s smart and good for you in the long run?
  • USEFUL: What’s useful to others?

When you have all three, you can live a happy life. When you feel unfulfilled, it’s often because one of them is missing.

And the slug of that blog post was /hsu!

In that moment, the English spelling I’d hated for so long was redeemed.

I still introduce myself to foreigners as “Shoe.”

But the “Hsu” in “Alex Hsu” now means “Happy, Smart, and Useful.”