my last name has always been the very last in the alphabet.
'z' followed by 'u' is almost unbeatably last.
lots of asian last names have the same fate: zhang, zhu, zheng, zhao, zhou, etc.
i remember the recesses where i lined in alphabetical order by last name, all the yearbooks where i had to flip to the last page, all the check-in desks where i just tell them 'i'm the last one.' all the torturous waiting to be called last in role call to be faced with the dreadful words 'last but least... nancy zuo.'
during high school graduation, i dreaded being last among the class of 495 to be called onto the stage while waiting in the scorching sun.1 when i visited the vietnam memorial, i looked through all the names to see if any soldier was alphabetically after me. i so wanted to escape from the reality of feeling and being last.
what does it mean to be last? in the order of nature when is no natural order? we only created artificial order to organize.
to be last is an artifact of society. to feel last is to suffer.
what does a last name even serve anymore? some confusing new adoption of an identity from marriage? some vestigial name of a past occupation?
luckily, i was saved by the fact that i found my way into being called earlier B)