Growing up, I hated my first name because it was so different. I did everything I could to fit in and make situations "easier" for the people I was around. I'd mimic their speech patterns, stay away from any topics they wouldn't want to talk about, and generally act in a way that I thought was familiar to them.
But it still didn't change the fact that my name's Mustafa.
Sure I might have the voice of a North Jersey gym bro, and, depending on the time of year and the amount of facial hair I have you'd think I was either Italian or Israeli or Turkish or Portuguese. In fact, the last thing I look like is Eastern European or Albanian.