Obviously not of the same gravity, but a good part of my childhood was spent being called by my big brother&#x27;s name. Family, friends, teachers, you name it. It&#x27;s a hard one, because I think my brother is an amazing guy, and evidently so do other people, but it&#x27;s ultimately belittling.<p>A math teacher, who had my brother for a single year, called me by his name for the whole three years I knew&#x2F;had her. By that point, it&#x27;s not just offending, you just start thinking your identity is just a proxy for the other person&#x27;s, it&#x27;s downright depressing.<p>My brother and I look very much alike, to the point that to the untrained eye we would look like twins at certain points of our lives. Although around my teens, this had some unfortunate consequences, such as girls my age I fancied who would meet my older brother and see a better physical version of me in him, and forget about me. I can&#x27;t really blame them, but again, not exactly uplifting.<p>It isn&#x27;t an issue at all these days, we have very different lives and personalities, we live thousands of miles away, but mostly, my brother is alive and well, and I guess, not famous ; but it&#x27;s definitely had an effect on me when I was younger.<p>I guess I came here to relate, but the truth is I can&#x27;t even begin to imagine the added constant reminder of a deceased relative, no matter how amazing they used to be, or maybe even particularly so. The fact that those reminders are people who, by and large, had nothing remotely resembling a relationship with the person in question, especially not of the kind siblings would, must be incredibly hurtful.<p>I feel deeply for Noah and I genuinely wish he can affirm his own identity, and that people will make an effort to do so after reading his touching story.