You named her what?
Does naming a child Apple, as Gwyneth Paltrow did this month, make her feel special or scar her for life? WAHEEDA HARRIS, who knows what it’s like to grow up with an unusual moniker, reports on a trend.
I can relate to Apple Martin, the newly named daughter of actress Gwyneth Paltrow and Coldplay lead singer Chris Martin. And I empathize with Helen Hunt’s newborn, MaKena lei. I don’t have celebrity parents, but I share something else with them: a name that raises eyebrows and leaves new acquaintances baffled. I’m questioned almost daily about my name, which I never liked as a kid. I longed to be part of the crowd, and didn’t appreciate the beauty and rarity of Waheeda. I didn’t want to continually explain it to other kids, or to parents or teachers. I longed to be Sally, or Shelley.
Growing up in small-town British Columbia, I thought I was the only person with a name that set me apart. But these days, unusual names are booming. For the first time in history, the top 50 names in the United States account for less than 50 per cent of boys born each year, and for less than 40 per cent of girls, according to Cleveland Kent Evans, a psychology professor at Bellevue University in Nebraska and author of Unusual and Most Popular Baby Names.
Celebrities have been giving unconventional names to their children since the 1960s: Zowie Bowie (David Bowie’s son), Chastity Bono (daughter of Sonny Bono and Cher) and Moon Unit and Dweezil Zappa (Frank Zappa’s daughter and son). But during recent years, more parents have sought to distinguish their children by giving them unusual names, and the trend goes beyond the United States. Dr. Evans cites examples from the Alberta government’s on-line names registry (it’s the only province that does this), where he found two kids named Lexus and one with the unfortunate name of Swastika.
Choosing a non-traditional name may make the parents feel creative and original, but what does it do to the kid? Does it enhance self-esteem, by making them seem unique? Or turn them into a freak? Tima Steinberg says her name made her uncomfortable as a child. “My name was always mispronounced on the first day of school,” says Ms. Steinberg, a senior research consultant for CIBC’s market research division. “Teachers would always say Tee-mah, Ty-mah or Tina.” (It’s pronounced “Tim-ah.”) She is named in memory of her maternal grandmother, Bubbie Timmie Fox. Ms. Steinberg’s parents had hoped for a son and had chosen the name Timothy. When they realized they had a girl, “my parents decided to get all original and chose Tima.”
But as a teenager, she noticed that Tima was found in the middle of the word ultimate, and decided that made her moniker cool. By her university years, having a unique name made her stand out in the crowd and became a handy conversation starter at parties. She now considers herself in the same company as pop stars Prince or Morrissey, since she believes that having a distinctive first name makes a last name superfluous.
But for many kids, especially those of immigrants, having a different name can be too big a burden at a young age. Chioma grew up as Rosemary in Glace Bay, N.S. Born in Nigeria, she was given an African and a Christian name at birth. “My African name was from my grandmother. I was constantly reminded of how strong she was. I felt I couldn’t let her down.” But when she arrived in Nova Scotia, she just wanted to fit in, so she went with her Christian name. “It was only when I moved to Halifax and later to Toronto as a young adult that I wanted to be unique, exotic, different. I then went back to my African name, Chioma, after making several changes in my life.”
Working in a conservative industry like real estate taught her the power of names. “When I had to do cold calls, I would say my employer’s name first, Prudential Sadie Moranis, before my name, so clients would focus on the company and not on me. When I would show up at the door and start talking business, then my name didn’t matter.”
Research published in the Journal of Social Psychology several years ago suggested that names can, in fact, play a role in career success. The study found that people tend to make conclusions about a person’s effectiveness at work based on how well their name matches the gender associated with their vocation. Researchers at Ohio University asked participants to read descriptions of people — including their name and occupation — and found that women with more feminine names, such as Emma, were more often viewed as successful in traditional female occupations such as nursing, while men with more masculine names such as Bruno were expected to excel in stereotypically male jobs such as truck driving.
But apart from possibly playing a role in job interviews, a person’s name isn’t likely to affect his or her sense of self in significant ways, according to a study by psychologist Martin Ford, an assistant dean at George Mason University in Virginia. Mr. Ford found no relationship between the popularity or social desirability of a given name and academic or social achievement. “This doesn’t mean that a name would never have any effect on a child’s development,” he told Psychology Today. “But it does suggest that the probability of a positive effect is as large as that of a negative effect.” Dr. Evans says the key for many children is knowing the story behind their name. “Having an explanation will insulate you from teasing and anchor your personality. If you can explain the origins of your name, it helps deflect the negative.”
Now working as a motivational speaker in the Toronto school system, Chioma, who is in her 30s, knows the power of her name, which she said has strengthened her and helped her bury the negatives of her difficult childhood and teen years as Rosemary. When a student confronted her recently, suggesting she had made up her name, she defended it by explaining it meant “the forgiving God.” “She was still doubtful, but my explanation appeased her,” says Chioma, who now bears the name proudly.
When someone comments on the beauty, elegance or uniqueness of my own name, I’m always eager to explain its origins. Technically, my name is “Waghida,” an Arabic name that my uncle told my mom and dad meant “first born,” but really means “one and only,” a fateful choice for an only child. My parents changed the spelling to make it easier for me growing up in 1970s and 80s small-town B.C. But within the walls of our house and in any correspondence with the family, I was always Waghida. The new spelling didn’t make a big difference though — I still get asked about my name regularly, which can be irritating.
It may be easier for celebrities’ children to grow up as Rumer, Scout and Tallulah Belle (the daughters of actors Demi Moore and Bruce Willis) or Pilot Inspector (actor Jason Lee’s son). These children live in an environment where uniqueness and individuality are celebrated, and are more than likely surrounded by others with unusual names, Dr. Evans says. But even if a child is not part of that rarefied entertainment arena, Dr. Evans says, making a child proud of who they are is key. That pride will help them as they progress through school and become adults.
The first day of school was always traumatic for Desia Halprin-Brill, who anticipated the mispronunciations as the teacher called out everyone’s names for attendance: Dess . . . eh . . .a? Dez-ah? Never Dee-jaa. But she has always been honoured by her name because of its origin. “My mother is from Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe, and was homesick when she gave birth to me in Port Cartier, Quebec,” says Ms. Halprin-Brill, 32, whose first name comes from the second syllable of her mother’s native country. The head of her own boutique public-relations agency, Brill Communications, Ms. Halprin-Brill likes that she has never met anyone with the same name. Her best friend is Panina, so the two banded together. “Our names were either always remembered or people just couldn’t catch them,” she says.
Dr. Evans says unique names are more common among women than men, partly because parents view their sons more traditionally. “Parents tend to think of a male child as an adult, representing the family, and choose a name that reflects them when they are grown, where girls they just think of as girls, not as adults.” Many also believe that women “can handle having a different name and the teasing that may come with it,” he says.
Still, the jokes weren’t easy for Charo Prater, who never has a problem with anyone over 35 forgetting her name: It was inspired by seventies pop culture icon/Spanish guitarist Charo. “My parents saw her perform on a late-night TV program when she was a young naive 17-year-old musician,” says Ms. Prater, 35, DMG World Media marketing manager. “I think they regretted choosing the name when she became the character on The Love Boat.” Growing up in Toronto, Ms. Prater faced relentless teasing. “When I was 6 or 7, kids my age didn’t know who Charo was, but adults did and would imitate her in front of me.” Ms. Prater, 35, believes her name has contributed to her standoffish personality, and even to this day feels she has to justify her name with a defence of Charo’s musical skills. “People who hadn’t met me would have a visual impression of who they thought I was and would often make sexual references.” Ms. Prater says that if she had a child, she would choose a unique name, but not one with the unfortunate negative connotations of her own.
Ms. Halprin-Brill says she would definitely give a child an unusual name. “When you’re born, you’re already unique, but having a distinct name just makes it so much more. Something that is truly yours and no one else’s.”
Published in The Globe and Mail Saturday May 29 2004
