When I wrote about "namer's remorse," I heard from many parents who had struggled with their kids' names after the baby was born. But what if the struggle continues once the baby is no longer a baby? One mother wrote to me after suffering from four straight years of name regret. Is it ridiculous, she wondered, to think of changing a preschooler's name? Will it lead to identity confusion, to teasing, or to a reputation as a family of kooks?
Few parents ever reach that stage of worry. Most come around to liking their name choice as their child grows into it. Most, but not all. And for some parents, the name regret only starts once the child's personality fully emerges. (A name like "Ranger Blaze" or "Desiree Venus" isn't going to fit everybody.) Is it too late to reconsider?
Once a child is a walking, talking, tricycle-riding, Lego-building member of the family, a name change takes on a whole new context. There's a shift in jurisdiction: the name no longer belongs to the parent, it belongs to the child. Most kids dive into that ownership, proudly spotting their initials everywhere and learning to write their names before they learn to read. If your child feels happy and "as one" with her name, it would be unfair to take it away from her.
That doesn't mean, though, that a preschooler's name is set in stone. Many kids acquire new names naturally during childhood, in the form of nicknames. I know plenty of adults who answer exclusively to a name they took on by chance at the age of three or four. Then there are the legions of serial nicknamers -- the kids who go by Kathy one year, Kit the next, until they finally settle into life as a Kate or Katherine. Children generally take these shifting identities in stride. My best childhood friend went through several of these name phases, and I never skipped a beat shifting with her. (My parents always seemed one step behind on this, though. Grownups aren't quite as adaptable as kids.)
So let's say that you really, really don't think your child's name fits. Or perhaps your child feels that way herself. It's not out of bounds to introduce a new "nickname," in hopes that it might eventually grow into an everyday name.
A few suggested ground rules for introducing new names:
1. Make sure you give NO indication that you think your child's name is "bad" or "wrong."
2. Don't push your child to accept a new name of your choice, or to stop using his given name. A new nickname should be treated as an item of fun and affection, not a taking away of the old name. Introduce the new name candidate gradually and naturally. If it doesn't stick, then it probably wasn't meant to be to begin with.
3. For a child who is still very young, you can treat the candidate name like any of the many other silly nicknames you call him. With an older child, you might consider opening a direct conversation -- again, without any suggestion that you dislike his current name. The idea is that you picked out a name before you even met him, and he's big enough now to have some say. What does he think of his name? Does it suit him? (Prepare yourself, though, for a child who suddenly demands to be called Spike or Isis.)
Ideally, you'll either end up with a name that fits just right and makes the whole family happy, or with a newfound peace with the name you originally chose. If your daughter expresses total happiness with her "wrong" name, you can content yourself with the knowledge that you've done right by her. And in the end, that's the only measure of success a parent can ask for.
The first in an occasional series on naming regulations around the world.
A recent New York Times article described China’s battle against its own baby-naming traditions. In Chinese custom, names are not a special class separate from ordinary words. Instead, parents have always constructed names out of auspicious combinations of the 50,000 different Chinese characters. Certain elements such as Mei ("beautiful" or "plum blossom," depending on tone) and Li ("strong" among other meanings) are particularly popular, but many parents have also chosen rare characters drawn from traditional sources like ancient poems. Until now. In 2006, China announced plans to ban half of all characters from use in baby names.
The problem was a practical one. The country was preparing the awesome task of issuing electronic ID cards to 1.3 billion citizens. To make such a massive database project feasible, some streamlining was required. The 27,000 least common word characters had to go. To be credentialed as a citizen you must be tracked in the database; to be tracked in the database you have to bear a modern, efficient name. The estimated number of Chinese with non-compliant names is 60 million. The plan, as you might expect, has met with considerable resistance.
This data-driven reform sounds like the ultimate 21st-century naming statement. In fact, it’s a close relation to a naming revolution that took place two centuries earlier on the other side of the globe.
From the days of the Vikings, the Nordic peoples used patronymics—names identifying people by their fathers. You'll find patronymic-based surnames in many languages. Jefferson is "son of Jeffrey," McCormick "son of Cormac." A true patronymic, though, changes with each generation. So in Denmark, Niels Andersen's son Peder was known as Peder Nielsen, while Peder's daughter Anna was Anna Pedersdatter.
This constant change became a sticking point in the modernizing Europe of the 1800s. Modern nations were mobile and industrializing. They operated at a large scale, collecting taxes, drafting armies, even attempting to establish national systems of education. That all required organization, and a population of shifting, indistinguishable Hans Jensens and Jens Hansens was no help at all. So one by one, most governments of Scandinavia began to require heritable surnames. In Denmark, patronymics were simply frozen in masculine form. Any Hans Jensen of 1828 would find his patronymic immortalized as the surname of generations of descendents, while the form Jensdatter was left to die out.
Do you see a flaw in this plan? Freezing patronymics made it easier to trace families, but it didn't actually make the populace more distinguishable. All those Jensens and Hansens were still Hansens and Jensens, and still named their sons Jens and Hans. Denmark was left with a small and concentrated name pool. Even today, the top 50 surnames account for two thirds of all Danes. Meanwhile the need to track and identify individuals increased year by year.
The Danish government responded in the 20th Century with an aggressive move toward personal identification codes, or personnummer. Each Hans Jensen now has a number that represents his identity, akin to a U.S. Social Security number but more broadly used. (It's also less private; the number comprises your date of birth, sex, and just three extra unique digits.) A Copenhagen University guide for foreign students explains that "the 'personnummer' opens Danish society to you."
This naming number crunch happened in Denmark, a nation of only 5 million citizens. Compare that to China where the surname Li alone accounts for almost 100 million people. Doubtless, the Chinese government will rely on numeric identifiers as well. Yet the movement toward national IDs that is costing so many Chinese citizens their naming freedom has had quite the opposite effect in Denmark.
Once it became clear that Danish surnames had ceded their practical, legal significance to ID codes, the need to restrict them began to melt away. In 2006, the government turned back the clock. 21st-century Danish parents now have a freedom their parents and grandparents never had: to name their children with patronymics in the old Viking style.
Hundreds of you put your best (and worst) names forward in the annual Baby Name Pool, guessing the fastest rising and falling names of the year. I'm always fascinated to see the patterns in the voting. Right or wrong about 2008, they're a great glimpse at the name-culture zeitgeist.
This year's Pool entries give us an Obama landslide even bigger than the one last November. But this time, the winner isn't Barack...it's his daughter. The name Malia was your overwhelming favorite for a fast-rising name of 2008.
Malia sat at the intersection of two hot themes in your voting, the Obamas (Barack and Sasha were also heavy vote-getters) and famous kids (Vivienne, Honor, Violet). The other dominant theme was Twilight (Cullen, Edward, Bella), with tween rockers close behind (Miley, Jonas).
On the other side of the fashion equation, you all seem confident that the name Madison has run its course. That name absolutely dominated the falling predictions...as it has in the past. Other popular predictions: the end is nigh for the phenom Nevaeh, Britney is so over, and old favorites like Jennifer, Jessica and Ashley will continue to fade.
Many of you banked on the "what goes up must come down" principle and wrote in last year's fastest rising names like Miley and Jaslene. Finally, we saw a reverse Obama phenomenon. Plenty of you decided that a year when both parties seemed to be running against incumbent George Bush had to be tough on the name George.
And now, as promised, I'll try my hand at the prediction game. Here's my own ballot. When you trounce me with Malia and Madison, be kind.
This was a tough choice due to sheer abundance. The fastest-rising names are often inspired by celebrities, and 2008 looks like a Hollywood bumper crop.
Last year's rising champ Miley kept up her cultural momentum, and fellow tween-dreamers the Jonas Brothers should give a boost to the already hot name Jonas. Twilight and Gossip Girl also stand to cut a broad swath through the 2008 name charts, with their bevy of well-named beauties: Cullen, Bella, Jasper, Esme, Leighton, Serena, Chace. And it never pays to look past reality tv, where Kenley and Audrina made their marks -- or telenovelas, home of Marely, Camila, Hugo and Lola. Of course, style didn't stand still off the screen, either. Finn, Harper and Cruz are strong competitors in the fashion arena.
But pick I must, so the rising slate is: Marely (F), Chace (M), Kenley (F). That's a mighty risky group. Marely already got a big bump in 2007, and neither Chace nor Kenley has ever hit the top 1000. If the latter two don't break through, I'm in for a whippin'. But bold guesswork's the name of the game on the rising side!
Falling picks are always harder, because breakout stars are a lot more common than breakout obscurities. Reality TV can be an exception with its 15 minutes of fame, but last year's name-making reality stars (Jaslene, Jordin) have shown some staying power. So here, I play it safer.
Dakota (M): This '90s favorite has hit its downside, accelerated by a pair of young actresses who have tilted the name toward the feminine side. Look for parents of boys to scurry away.
Ashlee (F): When a name starts to decline in popularity, alternate spellings often take the hit the fastest.
Ciara (F): For an R&B star, a year without a new radio hit usually means a year without namesakes.