An English student teacher who taught me as a sophomore in high school went the entire year without calling me by the right name.

The president of my high school stopped me before mass one day to congratulate me on a performance of a musical production I never starred in.

For much of my junior year, my Spanish teacher sent me repeated emails meant for another girl in my class.

In all of these instances, I wasn’t just forgettable. I was confusable.

It was very common for me to get mixed up with other Asian-American women in my grade and in my classes. In the case of sophomore English, I was called by the name of the one other Asian-American girl in my class, even though she looked nothing like me — in fact, she was of Filipino heritage, while I have Chinese heritage. In the rare instances when I wasn’t confused for her, the teacher called me by the name of another Chinese-American girl — even though she wasn’t in my class. My teacher did this until the last day of school.

Getting a compliment from the school president that one day before mass was the only time he had ever talked to me — and I was perplexed as to how he could have thought I was a cast member in the play. Dumbfounded and confused, I thanked him, thinking I must have forgotten about something I had done. I later realized there was only one Asian-American girl in the entire cast, and he had confused her for me, an Asian-American student passing by him in the gym before mass.

I took Spanish junior year with one of my closest friends, who is Korean-American. Starting in December, I received emails about making up exams I had never missed, or turning in assignments I had already gotten a grade back for. When my friend told me she hadn’t received make-up exam information or responses about questions she had asked, I realized my teacher had been sending the emails to me, thinking I was her.

Being confused for other Asian-American girls has happened to me my whole life. In almost every new setting or group I am in, even in college, I can assume that if there is another Asian woman in the group, I will get confused for her at least once.

When all of these incidents happened in high school, my instinct was to laugh them off. It was so funny how my English teacher hadn’t gotten my name straight for the whole year, despite seeing me every day. It was entertaining to be getting my friend’s emails, I told people, so hilarious that it was Christmas and my teacher genuinely thought I was someone else. I never mentioned the fact that I rarely saw my white or white-passing friends get mixed up with such frequency.

Now, years later, I realize how much it hurt. I realize what it said about the people around me. I realize how much it disrespected not only me, but other people as well. I know that my haste to laugh it off was rooted in a fear of being accused of being too dramatic or sensitive.

I understand that in passing, it may be easy to confuse me with someone else. I’m not expecting people to remember my name immediately after first meeting me. But these incidents are different — it’s not that people just forget my name after being around me every day for weeks, but they conflate my personal identity with that of someone else’s.

It’s time to acknowledge this for what it is: prejudice. It’s not a harmless mistake. The consequences and effects are more serious and lasting.

To congratulate me for the work of another Asian-American person is to disrespect the work they did. It sends the message that it’s too much work to figure out the difference between two people of the same ethnicity. It’s a way of telling both people involved that their positions in the classroom, in the workplace or in society are identical and replaceable.

There’s a reason why the instances I mentioned at the beginning of this piece are still etched into my memory. They’re instances where people saw me only for my race and outward appearance and not as a human being.

Whenever I’ve attempted to correct someone who has confused me with someone else, I usually get a standard response: “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I’m the worst. I really didn’t mean it. I’m terrible.”

As the other person progresses into a full-on expression of guilt, I often find myself putting their feelings of guilt over my own feelings of otherness, telling them, “It’s really okay. No, really.” Because of this, I’m often reluctant to make a big deal about getting confused with someone else. The more we talk about the mix-up, the more I am reminded of my otherness.

But it’s really not okay.

If you find yourself in the position of having confused two people you’re supposed to know well, understand that it’s not okay. But also, the more time you spend talking about your own feelings of guilt, the more you’re forcing the other person to come to terms with the painful reality of being a person of color in a world where people won’t spend the time to see them as an individual. You are telling the other person that your guilt is more important than their feelings of being dehumanized.

Apologize and move on. Understand that it’s a sign you need to make an effort to better respect the people around you. Anyone can be guilty of making this mistake, but don’t make it again. Respect your colleagues for who they are and for the work they do, and don’t define them solely by their ethnicities.

Andrea Bian is a Medill first-year. She can be contacted at [email protected]. If you would like to respond publicly to this op-ed, send a Letter to the Editor to [email protected]. The views expressed in this piece do not necessarily reflect the views of all staff members of The Daily Northwestern.