And two words stayed tattooed to all of my answers: identity crisis.

My mother is filipino, my father Iranian and I was born in Australia.

Both my parents are bilingual and they had English as their common language.

But if that wasn't enough to confuse me I was caught in a religious-crisis too.

I'm Catholic and so is my mother but my father is Muslim.

And to top it off I am an identical twin.

I spent many of my years questioning who I was.

If I scrape all the layers out it must have all started when I was 16.

In primary and high school I spelt my name ‘‘Soraya'' until I found my birth certificate one day when I needed it for my learner's licence.

I looked at this sheet realising after all these years I was missing, ‘‘i.''

And for so long I identified myself as someone I wasn't.

I spoke to my dad one day and that also created another turning point in identifying myself through name.

He told me that my last name was supposed to be Gharahkhani-Khararudi (well, it was probably a good thing that one of those names got the axe!)

But the bottom question here was, who was Soraiya Gharahkhani-Khararudi?

She was a person I never knew existed but at the same time she was me.

And I know, it seems like a name you would have heard in the intro to Borat.

It also brings to mind a famous Shakespeare question, ‘‘What's in a name?''

When I really thought about it, I suppose I saw the positives that came out of this.

I have a shorter name (and an even shorter name when close friends call me Ghara) and it makes good party conversation.

I realised that all along I was looking at ‘‘what'' I was instead of ‘‘who'' I was.

But the most important positive was that I had finally found the ‘‘i'' in Soraiya.