What’s In A Name?

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Basically: This was supposed to run somewhere and I believe it’s not now. But dammit, someone’s going to read this. So here it goes:

We’re brought up to believe that our parents want us to go further in life than they ever did.

Yet when a parent names their child something that might incite strokes for the tongues of anyone who dares attempt to pronounce their faux-French names should we still believe that to be true?

I’m beginning to think parents have declared some sort of secret war on their offspring. It’s as if new mommies and daddies want to screw over their kids and cause human resources to instantly get a whiff of Lawry’s and Louisiana Hot Sauce the second one of their poorly named children submits a resume.

Of course, some of these children still manage to land jobs. Just the other day I came across a bank teller named Classic. Perhaps he was conceived at the State Fair Classic and his parents want that special memory to live on.

Wherever the source of his name stems from Classic has it a lot better than Jacorolynstans Onassis. Yes, that’s an actual name. I saw it in the program for my cousin’s high school graduation. I waited anxiously to see the announcer shed light on how you actually say her name out loud without taking a lunch break in between. Jacorolynstans didn’t show up, though, so to this day that mystery remains unsolved.

It gets worse than that…far, far worse.

Anytime I post about any distinctive name on Twitter and I’m instantly amassed with replies from followers who can top me.

“I got [a] cousin named “Unique Petal Lloyd.”

“[I] saw a chick working at Target named L’Oreal.”

“I graduated high school with a Starburshia. Apparently, my friend knows a Shadynasty (SHA-DYNASTY).”

“I went to school with a dude named Success. He wasn’t very successful.”

In L’Oreal’s defense, she may be Creole.

Talk to your friends and you may hear of names like “Tequila,” “Chardonnay,” and “Moet.” Don’t be surprised to find in ten years some boy’s first and middle names listed as “Red Bull Vodka.”

More times than not the mothers of these children aren’t even of legal drinking age. There’s a tragic irony in that given most of these names sound rooted in alcohol abuse.

Other gems include Treykia, Quinchelle, Kokesia, Kiqwane, Frozina (I’m guessing Minute Maid is listed as the father on this child’s birth certificate), Zeandreia, Aunanesha, Dyqueena, and on and on.

I’m not making these names up. There are children walking around the Earth who answer to these names with smiles on their faces. Like Brittanica. Now, do you think a girl named Brittanica has ever read one?

I don’t want to sound like a snob, but can we make a rule that names should be no more than three syllables? We don’t need the “Ta-“ in Ta-Tanisha. Everyone got it the first time.

To be fair it’s not just black people playing the name game like it’s “I Declare War.”

The names Bronx Mowgli, Zuma, Apple, Rumer, Pilot Inspektor, Kyd, and Sage Moonblood all prove white folks can be just as crazy as your misguided cousin whose house you refuse to go to after sunset.

But, I’m not worried about any of those kids. Their parents are multi-millionaires who have set up trust funds that will allow them to buy the unemployment office if compelled to. What is little Xonthenice going to do about her own social mobility?

Granted, despite being named after Michael Jackson (shamon), my name is all too common for some. I understand, but I guarantee you when I walk into a job interview it’s not stressed to me that I have to be completely honest about whether or not I have a criminal history on my application (at least not based on my name anyway).

It’s not an issue of buying into Eurocentric friendly names and distancing yourself from anything that screams Negro. The name Barack Obama proves names alone can’t hold you back. Then again, it doesn’t take a person ten minutes and an Advil to figure out how to say his name.

Please don’t name your child after liquor, your favorite character from Star Wars, or random noises you make when bored.

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