The Name That Had to Fit

In India, it is possible to have a single name on a passport.

My passport lists one name: Sushaantu.

When I moved to Chile, this became a problem. The systems responsible for issuing identification documents required a first name and a last name. There was no field for a single-name person. The form could not proceed.

Nothing about this was ideological. No one objected to my identity. No one questioned its legitimacy. The system simply could not recognize a person who did not conform to its assumed structure.

To resolve this, my name was duplicated. I became "Sushaantu Sushaantu." Only then could the process continue. Only then could I be issued a national identification number.

What mattered was not accuracy, but fit. The system needed data that aligned with its schema. The schema had come first.

Once assigned, the duplicated name propagated. It appeared on documents, records, and accounts. Over time, it became the version of me the system recognized. Not because it was truer, but because it was legible.

The original assumption—that a person must have at least two names—was never stated. It was embedded. It did not present itself as a rule, only as reality.

My identity did not change. The system's understanding of a valid person did.