On naming and identities
posted 0-0-2014 - 11:23 pm

 
Some years ago at a local radio station in Chicago, there was a young intern named Mylanta. No, that’s not the beginning of a joke, and yes, it was Mylanta – I kid you not: spelled just like the trademarked antacid. (Never mind the fact that the station had a ‘smooth jazz’ format, a musical analgesic for daily life not unlike modern Muzak; let’s just set that aside as a fascinating irony.)

It wasn’t the drug that was named after a human being but the other way around. It’s not a ‘real’ name that people give to their children, like David or Jennifer or Gyorgi or Uhura, but one invented by a pharmaceutical firm for a patented product.

What happened there? How did that poor girl end up with a drug name that was sure to provoke smirks? Was that merely the first thing that her befuddled mother saw once she came out of anesthetized labor, and she decided on that without ever once considering the consequences for the girl?

What symbolism was imparted there – that perhaps the girl was to be a palliative for everyday distress and the more indigestible aspects of life, without ever being a real solution to anything? Or something else? One wonders if that young lady had two brothers named Darvon and Tylenol, the latter after an over-the-counter pain killer, the former after a controlled substance, and what the symbolism or consequences of that naming would be.

Mylanta’s mother guaranteed that her girl’s name would forever be a source of at best, giggles and at worst, derision and humiliation. What on earth possesses parents to curse their children like that?

I don’t get intentionally misspelled names, either. What’s up with that? I have a nephew, Tylor, whose name was intentionally misspelled by his parents so that he’d be just a little different (right, like he’d really enjoy that as a teenager). I’d been sending cards for a while to baby Tyler and didn’t realize his name had been purposely misspelled, until I got a family Christmas card one year with all the first names on it. Not wanting to upset his mom, my cousin Irene (note the conventional spelling; she’s successful), I never mentioned it. Tylor is in college now, and I still don’t have the nerve to ask him how he feels about his name. It would be insensitive, and the damage is already done. Maybe he’ll change it someday. But I can’t help but wonder if his indecisiveness about a college major or career direction has something to do with people’s uncertainly about how to spell his name.

Sooner or later, kids with ‘unconventionally spelled’ names (and how’s that for a PC euphemism?) will figure out that their names are purposely misspelled. Then either they’ll feel embarrassed – like there isn’t already enough of that during adolescence – or else it’ll be a constant source of irritation on both sides whenever somebody who can spell tries to spell it correctly, i.e., conventionally. Why do that to your kid?

Then there are those who name their daughters Amber, or Brandy, or Tiffani with an ‘i’ (whose parents evidently couldn’t spell, either, but wanted a name that sounded like bling), thereby probably ensuring that these young women will never be – or seek to be – Nobel laureates, rocket scientists, corporate CEOs, Pulitzer winners, or world-class surgeons (please note: there are no U.S. senators named Bambi, at least not yet; and call me crazy, but I’m not sure I’d trust one if there were). What messages are these parents sending to their daughters about their expectations, and how are they preemptively narrowing these girls’ life paths and career choices? Or how potential employers will see them? Do parents even consider that anymore?

Don’t even get me started on made-up names like Wynona or Lurleen. Yes, I know, eventually every name already in existence was made up at some point, given that all language is a human artifact. But you’d think from all those baby books in umpteen languages that there were already plenty of solid, beautiful, noble, or elegantly exotic names to choose from without spelling some backwards, making up more or relying on drugs for inspiration.

There’s always some degree of potential ego-gratification and status seeking involved in naming children. Any status conferred by a name could be intended as a means of easing a child’s way in life – but it could just as easily be intended to confer greater status on the parents themselves instead, or placate or flatter other family members, or indicate a long, established, high-status line of ancestors and thereby show off to other people. Thus, names like, say, Paige Sydney Davenport or Charles Edgar Whatever IV.

But what fleeting status could possibly be bestowed by names like Nevaeh, or Mylanta, or Wynona, or Tiffani with an ‘i’? Why name a child Apple or Rainbow Sun and give only the impression that (s)he is a unique individual – possibly with overgrown hippie parents – instead of actually teaching him or her to be different by thinking for himself or being true to herself? Could it be because the latter is a much harder, long-term proposition than simply saddling the child with an unusual name and a few exhortations to ‘be different,’ then expecting the child to take it from there? That’s lazy on the parents’ part and rude and cruel to the child.

Words have meaning. Impact. They can inspire or condemn, so you have to use them wisely. A name need not be destiny, but it has influence: it can be formative, both encouraging and discouraging in different directions, especially if the parents abdicate some of their responsibility to raise the child with good values, ones that are life affirming in the broadest possible meaning of that term. A name is not enough to establish an identity, but it can set a direction – perhaps the wrong one. And an exotic or artsy name doesn’t guarantee that the bearer will grow into a solid, rational, loving, intelligent, creative individual instead of an unthinking, mediocre conformist – just as a conventional name doesn’t guarantee that its owner won’t become a serial killer (ever notice that most serial killers, assassins and domestic terrorists have seemingly ‘normal’ names? Usually three of them at a time, like John Wayne Gacy or John Wilkes Booth).

Symbolism isn’t enough: parents actually have to do the hard work of properly raising a child to become a solid, rational, intelligent human being who thinks creatively and knows how to make wise, informed decisions. Naming represents only the most cursory beginning of that process.

Parents can’t ensure that a child will turn out well by giving him or her the ‘right’ name, whatever they think that might be, but they can screw up royally by saddling the poor kid with a laughable, insulting, misspelled or otherwise embarrassing ‘different’ name that leaves the child with just one more unnecessary obstacle to overcome. Kids have more than enough problems to deal with in growing up; parents don’t need to start children off with names that make them feel bad and leave them open to ridicule.

The bottom line for parents is the same as it’s ever been: Don’t inflict your own ego issues or agendas – or other people’s agendas – on your kids. Don’t start them off on the wrong foot with the wrong name. And if you want them to grow up to be decent, loving, lovable individuals instead of rude, clueless jailbirds or sheep, do the work. Don’t expect a name to do it for you. Because if you do expect that, they and the rest of us will pay for it, one way or another.