What's in Your Name?

Henry, Luna, Hans, Juliette, Gleb, Paweł, Γεώργιος, 浩然, حمزة:

what do all these have in common?

Well, they are personal names, but they are more than mere sounds we utter or letters we type to get someone's attention; they are an element of our identity that we "wear" daily. They create different associations in different contexts for different people, carrying colors, scents, sounds, and badges of culture, religion, ethnicity, history, and family. Moreover, many names have "parents", "siblings," and "children." One of Anthony's brothers? Antonio. The grandson of Wido? Guy.

In relation to English names, there are four main things you should know, as this blog is relatively Anglocentric due to my own background, knowledge, and interests.

English is a Germanic language, sharing roots with German, Dutch, Danish, Norwegian, Swedish, Flemish, and Icelandic.

The term "English names," at least in this blog, does not only refer to ones that are English in origin (e.g. Edward, Edith), but also to names that are English in their current form (e.g. Paul, James), or to those that are deeply embedded in English-speaking cultures, having already been naturalized at this point in time (e.g Sarah, David).

Anglosphere = the spheres, or places, that have English as the main language (e.g. UK, US, Canada, Ireland, etc.).

"Anglosphere" is a broad term, used here as a rule of thumb. The name Oisín, for instance, is native to Ireland but foreign to the United States; Cooper heavily leans American as opposed to British.

Now, it's worth being aware of two crucial points. Firstly, the study of names, also known as onomastics, is rarely about technical possibilities but more so about statistical probabilities, assumptions, and perceptions. Second of all, naming choices are usually not about "right" or "wrong," but more so about multiple factors that should be considered in accordance with the outcomes one hopes to achieve.

The purpose of this blog is to have fun exploring the rich stories and facets of names, their relationship with identities and cultures, and hopefully help you in choosing a name for your newborn or for yourself.

Said with love and humor, but it must be said nonetheless: people have to get over it! Get over what? Well, thank you for asking: get beyond having a fixed, narrow view of names. A Juan who doesn't speak Spanish? No way! But Ron is a Middle Eastern name, are you sure you're Scottish? YES WAY to Mr. Juan, and HELL YES to Sir Ron. Now, making such statements without malicious intent is one thing. Granted, I'd probably also have an initial surprise if a Gaetano told me he has no connection to Italy or the Italian language. But playing down someone's identity, mocking them, disrespecting their truth, or forcing them into a box they don't belong to simply due to a perceived incongruence is something that is best to avoid. So, let's unpack this in hopes of expanding horizons on the vast and often complex world of monikers.

Same name, separate origin

Also known as false cognates, some names — such as Kai, Lee, Ella, Zoma, Amit, Barack, Hana, Kara, Ron, Shay, and Maya — have two or more separate and unrelated origins. Kai is a name of Hawaiian origin, meaning "sea." It is sometimes used as a diminutive of Kainoa, comprised of "Kai" and "-noa," the latter meaning "free." Unrelated to this, it is also a Japanese name written as 海, which means "sea," or 魁, which is also read as "kai" but means "pioneer." Separate from these two, Kai (or Kay) is also a transliteration of the Persian name کی, meaning "great" or "ruler." In that cultural context, it comes from the mythological Kayanian dynasty of kings in the Shahnameh, which is the Persian Book of Kings (a 10th-century epic poem written by the Persian poet Ferdowsi.) So, if you meet a Persian man named Kai, insisting that he must be partly Japanese or not being able to accept that it's also a Persian name would do little to make the person feel good or place you under a positive light.

People borrow: always have, always will

For millennia, people have borrowed things from other individuals or groups, from fashion and food all the way to architecture and names. Yosef, for example, a Jewish Biblical name of Hebrew origin meaning "god increases," has been adopted and adapted by Arab Muslims and Christian Europeans all around the world — Joseph is the English form, and Youssef is the Arabic one. I myself have heard of a Pedro whose Scandinavian parents simply liked the name after hearing it on a vacation they took to Ibiza. Liam has been ranking #1 in the US for nine consecutive years and skyrocketing in popularity across Europe for quite some time. To many people's surprise, it is the Irish variant of the English diminutive Will. And guess what? Most people who use it across the globe aren't even Irish, either by nationality or by ethnicity. And this is where we get to our next point.

Anchoring doesn't equal ownership

Every name is anchored in some language or culture, be it by etymological origin, concept, or modern/historical usage. Tatenda, for instance, is a classic Zimbabwean boy's name that means "thank you;" Nomvula is a traditional girl's name in South Africa of Zulu origin, meaning "lady of rain." But are these names owned by someone? Not really. A blonde, blue-eyed Danish girl named Nomvula could definitely invite questions, create assumptions, and might even lead to real-life consequences. However, to claim that her parents shouldn't have used it or aren't allowed to, especially before knowing the background story, is quite absurd.

Honoring heritage or family members

"No sabo" kid is a term used in the United States to describe Hispanic Americans who don't speak Spanish. "No sé" in Spanish means "I don't know," and "no sabo" is an intentional grammatical mistake, reflecting the "broken" Spanish such people speak. The "no sabo" label can find its way particularly to those non-Spanish-speaking Hispanics who bear names that are strongly and uniquely Español, such as Esperanza (meaning "hope") or Juan (the Spanish version of the name John.) "A Juan who doesn't speak Spanish? No way, I don't believe you!" Expressing this as a brief and humorous disbelief is understandable, but having a genuine denial that a Juan speaks only English after they sincerely tell you they grew up monolingual can be utterly insulting. There can be various reasons parents decide to give their child a certain name, and wanting to honor a family member or heritage while not raising them in the language spoken by their ancestors isn't a decision that should lead to mockery or antagonism.

Shared

Miguel: both the Spanish and Portuguese form. Paul: both the English and German variants. Gabriel: shared in that exact spelling by so many languages. Tribes, groups, and societies have names and versions of names that they share, be it for religious, linguistic, historic, or any other reason.

If you thought the vast world of names and the decision of choosing one for your child is complicated, then wait until you're introduced to the realm of -nyms. A “-nym” (from Greek ónoma, meaning “name”) refers to a broad family of name-related terms.

Patronym / Matronym

The word "patronym" is divided into "patēr" (πατήρ), meaning father, and "-nym." Similarly, "matronyn" is comprised of "mētēr" (μήτηρ), meaning "mother," and "-nym." Though usually found in surnames (e.g. Williamson = Son of William, O'Connor = descendent of Connor), some given names are also patronymic or matronymic, such as Jackson and Harrison. They often carry a formal, surname-like feel and are especially associated with U.S. naming culture. This should not be confused with honorific naming, where someone is named to honor another person.

Ethnonym-based

Not an ethnonym in the traditional sense, but more ethnonym-derived; these are names of ethnic groups or national identities. Examples include Scott (from Scotland) and Erin (poetic way of saying "from the island," referring to Ireland). Names from this category are relatively uncommon.

Eponym

Eponyms derive from places or people after which someone is named (e.g. Francis, from saint Francis of Assisi; Mary, after Mary, mother of Christ.) But can any name be eponymic? Not exactly. Etymology and motivation differ; if you name your daughter Rose after a singer, the motivation is eponymic, but the name itself is etymologically phytonymic, which brings us to our next category.

Phytonym

From Greek Phyton ("plant"), Phytonyms are derived from flora: Willow, Daisy, Rose, Lily, Iris, Jasmine, Ash, Oak. As you may have noticed, most Phytonyms are given to girls. One explanation is that flowers are associated with softness and delicacy — traits linked to femininity. Plant-based names tend to convey a fresh, earthly energy.

Hydronym

Speaking of flora, this would be a great opportunity to dive into hydronyms. If it reminds you of the word "hydrate," then you're spot on! Hydronyms derive from bodies of water, such as River, Jordan, Hudson, Shannon, and Nile. If that didn't make you crave a drink, then maybe the next one will at least give you an appetite.

Zoonym

As you may have guessed, Zoonyms include names like Wren, Colt, Bear, and Leo. Okay, hopefully you didn't get that much of an appetite; cow and chicken haven't become names yet! Zoonyms often carry a fierce, raw, and sometimes wild vibe.

Theonym

Theonyms, like Zoonyms, are quite straightforward — they are names of Gods, from Zeus and Durga to Aphrodite and Isis. In many contexts, they project mightiness, antiquity, and a celestial aura. Unfortunately, some, like Isis, have been negatively affected by modern associations.

Theophoric

Similar to Theonyms, Theophoric monikers are lexically composed of elements referring to a God or deity. A classic example is Daniel, comprised of "dan," meaning "to judge," and "-el," meaning God (so, God judges). Other examples include Nathaniel ("God gave"), Jonathan ("God has given"), Theodore ("God's gift"), etc. Here, subtlety is key, compared to the more overt Theonyms. Many theophoric names are international and versatile, conveying a timeless and classic feel.

Some given names — Thatcher, Ridge, Sloane, and Peyton — practically scream “Anglosphere;" since they’re English monikers without direct equivalents in other languages or visible presence in non-English speaking households, they´re anchored in the English-speaking world, specifically the United States. As a result, they tend to be less influenced by last names. Hunter Ferrari? The first element is so heavy, sociolinguistically, that the Italian occupational surname does little to create the impression of a born-and-raised Southern European — sounds more like an Italian-American whose native language is probably English. But what about first names that are more easily swayed by surnames? And could they influence the decision you'll make for your newborn?

Double Agents

Andrew, Anthony, William, Matthew... these names' core forms — Andreas (Ἀνδρέας), Antonius, Willahelm, and Matityahu (מַתִּתְיָהוּ) — are familiar across the Western world and beyond, having been adapted by various languages. For instance, some variants of Andrew include André (Portuguese), Andrea (Italian), Andrés (Spanish), and Anders (Scandinavian). Just like Anthony, William, and Matthew, then Andrew is also uniquely English in form, currently having no shared spelling with other languages. However, in spite of their linguistic exclusivity, they don't point toward one English-speaking country in particular. Hence, for now, they can be classified as "double agents:" on the one hand, they "play" for more than one country, yet on the other hand, they remain limited in their ability to adapt across cultures; their unique form forces them to maintain a foothold in the Anglosphere regardless of the surname. Andrew Brown? Andrew Kowalski? Andrew Schmidt? All three, to varying degrees, carry an English flavor.

Stealthy Ninjas

These furtive ones travel and adapt beyond national borders that share the same language — they cross linguistic spheres like surreptitious ninjas. Paul? He could logically be presumed British just as much as German or French due to the identical spelling. Paul Wyatt? Gives North American vibes. Paul Müller? Now we're in the Germanosphere. Paul Dubois? We have landed in French territory. Could a Paul Müller be a native English-speaking Brit? Of course! A Juan Lopez could also be one. However, onomastics is rarely about technical possibilities. It's more so about probabilities, perceptions, and assumptions. So, the cultural associations that Paul, Marco, Bruno, Oscar, Alfred, Alice, Nora, Ella, Bianca, and Clara create often depend on the surname they're paired with. Marco Russo? It gives the first name an Italian taste, whereas Marco Lopes gives that same Marco a more Portuguese flavor. But context matters! Indexicality never exists in a vacuum. A Paul Müller, on paper, will probably be thought of as a native German within Germany itself, but in the United States, he will most likely be assumed to be an American with German heritage. And in Italy? Just a foreigner who could be either one — it depends on the point of reference.

Ultra Chameleons

If Paul, Hugo, Bianca, and Alice are mildly surname-sensitive, then the names under this category are extremely vulnerable to last names. Since their spelling is identical in many languages and their pronunciation is similar, the smallest tweak can place the entire set in a whole other culture. Daniel... are we talking about Daniel Gomes from Portugal, Daniel Gomez from Argentina, Daniel Müller from Germany, Daniel Miller from the UK, Daniel Eriksson from Sweden, or Daniel Eriksen from Norway? Well, that depends! Other ultra chameleon names include David, Adam, Maria, Anna, Sarah, and Lara. Yet as mentioned prior, name indexing occurs within a certain cultural framework. Lara Cruz, especially when pronounced with a Southern Californian accent, will find its home in the United States. If pronounced the Portuguese way, it will sit comfortably in Western Iberia.

In 10th-century Britain, if someone had introduced themselves as Lucas, Isabella, or Daniel, they would have been labeled as a foreigner. In 17th-century England, names like Liam, Eric, and Jessica were practically alien. Today? They're already embedded in English-speaking countries, viewed as local. In fact, Daniel is almost synonymous with John in the US and UK — your classic, invisible "everyman." So how do names cross over, and when are they no longer considered exotic?

The guests

Guest-names, so to speak, are ones that are perceived as foreign by the general population of a place, associated with another culture or language. Before the Norman Conquest of 1066, William (originally Guillaume) was an outsider name in Britain. Examples of names that are guests nowadays, for instance in the Iberian Peninsula and Mediterranean, include Phillip, Cassidy, and Olaf. Though Phillip is definitely recognized, this specific spelling points to another culture.

The Resident

It was about a century after the Norman Conquest that Guillaume was adapted to English, becoming Willelm, or William. At that point, it was no longer categorized as foreign, but as familiar and used. However, this stage leaves the name in limbo — not alien, but not completely local either, still carrying an imported mark.

The citizen

By the 15th century, William had already cemented itself in British culture, no longer carrying an exotic scent. Though it had undergone a linguistic adaptation, such a process isn't necessary for a name to take on "citizen" status. Lucas, for instance, is the standard Portuguese and Spanish variant of the English Luke. However, English speakers have adopted it en masse, using it for generations to the point where its ethnic and exotic taste had all but faded. Isabella is another great example, and a fascinating one at that! it's the standard Italian form of the English name Elizabeth, which derives from the Hebrew Elisheba. Isabella was extremely fast, skipping the resident phase alltogether to become a citizen right away. Talk about efficiency! According to the US Social Security, Isabella was ranked #890 in 1990. After that, it EXPLODED, ranking within the top 100 after just 8 YEARS! Since 2004, the name hasn't left the top 10 list, and according to mynamestats.com, 73% of people named Isabella are white, while 11% are Hispanic.

The Permanent Outsiders?

Some names, like Wyatt and Muhammad, find it very hard to roam beyond their borders and penetrate other cultures, yet for different reasons. Latin speakers, for instance, would find Wyatt to be a phonetic disaster. The letter W and double consonant endings don't exist in their languages, and Y doesn't exist in Italian, Portuguese, or Romanian. Moreover, it doesn't carry any historical or linguistic weight in mainland Europe. The name Muhammad, on the other hand, does not pose a huge phonetic hurdle. However, it poses a great theological, ethnic, and socio-political challenge. It is the name of the most revered man in Islam, a religion that originated in the Arabian Peninsula — Mecca and Medina — and is strongly tied to Arab ethnicities, dialects, countries, and cultures. Hence, it hasn't been, and probably never will be, adopted by non (mostly Arab) Muslims.

“Yes, Chris is a Jewish name.” Or so Chaim Harrison — a Reform Jewish convert known by his birth name, Christopher, and his Hebrew name, Chaim Ezra — wrote in 2018 on reformjudaism.org. But does his bold statement hold water?

Firstly, Chris is a nickname for Christopher. In and of itself, it has no meaning. Moreover, to determine what a "Jewish name" even means, we first need to define the term "Jewish" and then assess its relationship with names of a certain linguistic origin, meaning, and historical-cultural context.

To kick it off, I'll start with the crucial distinction between a name that is Jewish and a name that is Hebrew. A Jewish name is not defined by linguistic origin or statistical usage, but by Jewish scripture and tradition. Examples of Jewish names include Abraham, Jacob, Miriam, Sarah, and Hagar. The latter, Hagar, is not Hebrew but Jewish, whereas the others are both Hebrew and Jewish. A Hebrew name, however, is simply one that originates from the Hebrew language; it could be Jewish, but not necessarily. Two examples include Shaked and Smadar. They are not intrinsically Jewish, but are modern Hebrew names primarily found in the Levant.

One of Chaim's problematic claims anchors itself in the hypothetical question: "Would you say that to Moses?" [That he isn't Jewish enough] [...] "Would you tell him his identity is Treif (Yiddish for 'non-kosher') because he was given an Egyptian name by his Egyptian mother?" I think Chaim meant his adoptive mother; Moses' biological mother was actually Jochebed, a Jewish woman from the tribe of Levi. This distinction matters because it already complicates the premise being made. In regard to his name, it actually derives from the Hebrew root M-SH-H, which in its verb form means "to draw out" or "pull from," as Moses was pulled out of the Nile River from a basket coated with tar and pitch. ("And she called his name Moses: and she said, Because I drew him out of the water," Exodus 2:10, KJV).

One theory though suggests that the name Moses is derived from the Egyptian linguistic word "mes," or "mose," meaning "child of" or "born of" (e.g. Ramesses — born of Ra, the sun god). However, I'm baffled as to why this is even relevant. The name “Christopher” etymologically encodes a Christian theological reference (“Christ-bearer”), whereas even if “Moses” had an Egyptian etymology such as “born of” or “child of,” it would not carry an inherent theological claim that conflicts with Jewish doctrine the same way Christopher does.

The post continues by stating that "Christopher — an Anglicization of the Greek name Christophoros – literally means 'bearer of the messiah'" [...] "Many Jews believe in working toward a 'messianic age,' or olam haba (the world to come)." From there, he goes on to say that "[his] responsibility as a Jew, as reflected and inspired by [his] name, is to practice tikkun olam (repairing the world); to work toward bearing a messianic age through acts of justice, mercy, and humility." This phrasing could easily create an inaccurate perception. It is indeed true that the concept of a messiah is a jewish one, but there's more to it than that. Christopher originates from the Greek Christóphoros, which is comprised of Christos ("anointed one") and Phérō ("to bear.") From a purely linguistic perspective, Christos means Messiah, or anointed one. It is used in the Septuagint as well, which is the Greek translation of the Jewish Bible. For instance, 2 Samuel 24:6 says “I will not raise my hand against my lord, for he is the Lord’s anointed” (Greek: Christos Kyriou). However, the "Lord's anointed" here refers to king Saul, indicating that the Greek word Christos was not only used to refer to a messiah. Consequently, this dilutes the connection between the linguistic word Christos to the Jewish concept of "savior."

This is where the book of Acts must be referenced. Acts 11:26 says "And when he had found him, he brought him unto Antioch. And it came to pass, that a whole year they assembled themselves with the church, and taught much people. And the disciples were called Christians first in Antioch." Christian derives from the Greek Christianos, comprised of Christos — like in Christopher — and -ianos, meaning "follower of." Here, it is established that Christos does not merely mean "messiah" or "anointed one" in general, but "Jesus the messiah" in particular. Since the name Christopher, along with its term "Christ-bearer," emerged after the establishment of Christian, it can be concluded that it specifically references Jesus Christ, the Lord and Savior.

Does the name Christopher indirectly cross paths with Judaism? Yes, but leaping from that to claiming that "Chris is a Jewish name" is an entire galaxy apart. Names like Mohammad, Francesco, and Tyler are also indirectly linked to Judaism. Does that make them Jewish? Not at all. You're probably curious how one could claim that Tyler is linked to Judaism. Well, if one jumps through enough hoops, then anything is possible. Tyler is an English occupational surname-turned-first initially given to tile workers — a field many Jews worked in, and still do. Moreover, being a tile worker is physically demanding, and hard work — as can be seen in biblical verses such as Proverbs 12:11 — is a foundational trait in Judaism that is strongly encouraged, opposing the sin of sloth.

Rumor has it that names like Dylan are English, and it seems like quite a few parents who chose it for their newborn are on board with that claim. But is it English for real, or does it just masquerade as such?

Origin

This is where a name linguistically originates from — a fixed historical fact, even if our understanding of it evolves. The root of Sophia is Greek, Sarah's is Hebrew, Edward's is English, Anthony's is Latin, and Dylan's is actually Welsh, a Celtic language. Meaning "son of the sea," It is derived from the words dy ("great") and llanw ("tide" or "flow"). It all started with Dylan Ail Don — a mythological sea deity from Mabinogion (a collection of Welsh prose stories from the 13th century.)

Variant

The term "variant" refers to the adaptation of a name's spelling and pronunciation by a certain language, usually in contrast with its original form. Francis would be the English equivalent of the Portuguese Francisco, and both are variants of the original Franciscus. Dylan — perhaps to people's surprise — is the official Welsh variant; English absorbed it as is. Hence, it is not the English form, but an English borrowing, and since it follows English orthography then altering its spelling was unecessary.

Indexicality

Why then are names like Dylan and Ronan — taken as is from their original language — often perceived as English or associated with the Anglosphere? This is where indexicality comes in, meaning how a word points to something based on context of use. Sarah — though of Hebrew origin and a transliteration of the Hebrew name — is perceived as a typical, classic English name in a British context. Paul — ultimately from Latin and shared in spelling with German and French — holds the status of a classic, traditional English name in the US and UK. But if the spelling of Paul is shared by various languages, can one refer to it as the English variant? The answer is a loud YES! It wasn't borrowed from German or French, but was separately adopted and altered from its source, which is the Latin Paulus.

Name variants, from David/Davide to Mateus/Matthew, vary widely in how much they differ from one another. Some, though seemingly similar, are actually worlds apart, while others that appear distant at first glance are in fact closer than one might expect. In this post, we'll dive into good old Greek — but worry not! Aristotle, Hippokrates, and other lengthy ones are off the list.

The fabulous f/ph

If your phavorite treat is ice cream and you love filosophy, you'll know what I'm taking about. Many English words and names that have PH (e.g. philosophy, phone, Phoebe, Daphne) derive from Greek. The F sound in Greek is written as φ, like in Sophia, spelled Σοφία. This raises the question of how far apart, sociolinguistically, monikers like Sophia and Sofia are; whether the gap between them — and the way they are perceived — is comparable to that between names like Philip and Filipe.

Sofia, spelled as such, is the variant in many Latin languages, such as Spanish and Portuguese. After the spelling reforms — reforms that partly took place to increase the ease of reading and writing, namely for those who were illiterate — the PH and K-sounding CH were abandoned; they have been simplified to F and C. Sophia, on the other hand, remained the default spelling in English, German, and Dutch (The PH cluster was intentionally kept mainly for prestige and tradition.) However, according to official sources published by the United States Social Security Registration, the name Sofia has been on the list of Top 50 Baby Names since 2007. In Germany, according to Behind the Name, which draws its statistics from Beliebte Vornamen, Sofia was on the list of Top 20 Baby Names for multiple consecutive years starting in 2009.

But what is the actual difference between the PH version and F variant? Not much! Both forms derive from the same Greek root (Σοφία), they are pronounced identically, the shift doesn't include any additions, and the letters PH and F consistently reflect the same sound. According to MyNameStats.com, 62% of girls named Sofia in the US are Hispanic, and 29% are white, indicating that the name has extended beyond its cultural boundaries and doesn't carry a strong ethnic marker nowadays. In the end, it's primarily a stylistic choice. But does that also hold true to Philip and Filipe? Not quite...

Though the principal of PH in Philip is the same as the one in Sophia, the shift to Filipe is more extreme. For one, the stress is on the first syllable, while in Filipe it's on the second (fe-LEEP). Moreover, the letter E was added to make the name align with Spanish and Portuguese spelling rules. According to the United States Social Security Registration, Philip is ranked #521 as of 2024, and based on MyNameStats.com, 80% of people named Philip are ethnically white, while only 5% are Hispanic. Though it states that the name Filipe is evenly distributed among the white and Hispanic population, it has never entered the Top 1000 Baby Name list. Compared to Sofia, Filipe carries a stronger ethnic marker and is less anchored in the anglosphere.

The kingly k/c/ch

If you kant stand being driven in a char for hours and studying about cromosomes all day, then you definitely know what I'm referring to. Various English names and words containing a CH that reflects the K sound (e.g. chromosome, charisma, Christopher, Chloe) come from none other than... you guessed it: Greek. So how distant — sociolinguistically — are the names Christian and Cristian, and can the chasm between them be compared to that between Nicholas and Nicolas?

In Greek, CH is the letter Χ (chi), as in the name Christianos (Χριστιανός). In Ancient Greek it was an aspirated K, as opposed to the letter kappa, which made a hard K sound. English has kept the K-sounding CH for centuries, emphasizing the preservation of etymological spelling over phonetic clarity. Romance languages, as mentioned prior, simplified it to C, which also allowed it to correspond with their orthographic rules. Norwegian and Swedish did the same, but used K instead (Kristian).

According to the United States Social Security Registration, Christian has been in the top 100 Baby Boy Names list since 1986, ranked #77 as of 2024. Cristian, however, is ranked #320, and has never entered the Top 100. 67% of boys named Cristian, based on MyNameStats.com, are Hispanic, while 27% are white. In contrast, 69% of people named Christian are white and 18% are Hispanic. This data, along with ones found in other sources, indicate that Cristian remains strongly bound to its cultural sphere and is associated with a specific ethnic group, as opposed to Sofia. But the story doesn't end here.

The root of the name Christian is Christ, while the root of Sophia is the entire name. Substituting the PH for an F is mainly about aesthetics, while the omission of H in Christian changes the entire meaning in English. Hence, the change is drastic, both semantically and culturally. It is precisely for this reason that the "simple" omission of H from Christian is actually more significant than the shift from Philip to Felipe, mainly due to the weight of the root.

So what of Nicholas? Well, Nicholas was actually born by mistake. The name is of Greek origin, spelled Νικόλαος. The third letter is K, as in Kappa, not χ. Hence, it should have been translated to Nikolas, or Nicolas. If one had to place this name on a spectrum, it would sit between Sofia and Felipe.

It’s Christmas; she travels with her big family from Chicago to Paris for the holidays, but has a gut feeling she forgot something. “What else could you be forgetting?” Her husband Peter asks. “Kevin!” And that would be the iconic quote exclaimed by Kate McCallister in the 1990 movie Home Alone after realizing she accidentally left her son behind. But did his name travel with them?

Kevin is of Irish origin — the anglicized version of Caoimhín (pronounced kwee-veen). Unlike David, Francis, Sarah, and Mary, the name Kevin doesn’t have a direct equivalence in European languages or a connection to religion. However, that hasn’t stopped many continental Europeans from adopting it in glee, creating a phenomenon known as Kevinism, or Kevinismus in German and Kevinismo in Spanish. A term used by sociologists, it describes a relatively recent trend of non-Anglophone parents giving their children “exotic” or Anglo names such as Kevin, Brian, Jennifer, and Chantal (also known in Germany as Chantalism — the female counterpart of Kevinism).

According to sources such as Behind the Name, which uses statistics on German and French names from Beliebte Vornamen and INSEE, Kevin ranked #1 in both countries just one year after the release of Home Alone. In 1989, it ranked #14 in Germany, yet was still uncommon during most of that decade, and its rare usage during the 70s is mainly attributed to the English footballer Kevin Keegan who relocated to Hamburg in 1977. In countries like Spain, the name creeped in a bit later, reaching 78th place in 2002, after ranking #65 overall between 1990 and 1999. Shortly before the official premiere of Home Alone, the film Dances with Wolves was released — and its producer, who also happened to play Lieutenant Dunbar? Kevin Costner. Coincidence? Hardly. The sharp increase in the name’s popularity, coinciding with the sudden success of two major productions, strongly suggests a direct correlation. However, despite its seemingly stylish aura, the name’s connotations are far from positive.

Based on various reports, such as one published by Discover titled “The Strange German Disease Called ‘Kevinism’: Can a Lame Name Mess Up Your Life?”, the Kevinism craze seems to appeal more to those swayed by temporary pop culture hypes than to individuals influenced by deeply rooted traditions. Hence, it’s typically associated with the lower class, or — as some might say —  with those deemed less educated. In 2024, The Economist published an article titled “We need to Talk about Europe’s Kevins” with the subheading “How an American name became a European diagnosis.” Talk about adding insult to injury. The article later mentions that “to grow up with the name [Kevin] in Europe has not been an altogether easy experience. Being a Kevin came to be seen as a sign that one hails from the great cultural unwashed, at least in the eyes of sophisticated types […].” And if that’s not enough, the term “Alpha Kevin” — coined in Germany around 2015 — is a derogatory term that describes an unintelligent young person.

Even though Kevin specifically has decreased in popularity, the phenomenon continues unabated. In Spain, also according to Behind the Name, which draws its data on Spanish names from the National Statistics Institute of Spain, Emma ranked #10 in 2024 while Liam ranked #16. In France and Chile, Emma has consistently appeared in the top 10 baby girl names for several years. Chic — for some, yet terribly tacky for others.

Ever heard someone introducing themselves as Sam, with the added "short for Samantha" disclaimer? Or Ed for Edward, Letty for Letitia, and Tom for Thomas? Legit. Logical. Lovely even. But what if someone's legal name is already the shortened version, like Alex, and they decide to introduce themselves as Alexander with the added "long for Alex" disclaimer? Does that work? And if it doesn't, would it prevent you from giving your child a nickname-as-full name?

Just like pseudonyms, nicknames also have a long history, and unlike pseudonyms, their goal isn't to conceal one's identity; they are a way to informalize, stylize, or simplify a given name. In the past, they were also used to distinguish between people or strengthen social bonds, which is also the case today.

Clipped

The first type of nicknames are those that have been directly clipped or cut off from the formal versions, an act known as truncation. For instance, Dan is the first element that has been clipped from the name Dan-iel. Another example is Liz, which has been cut off from the name E-liz-abeth. In spite of decreasing formality, this method still allows the name to retain a certain level of maturity. So what about Danny?

Altered

Nicknames that end in -y, -ie-, or -o, belong to a different category. Examples of such names include Lizo (Elizabeth), Milo (Miles), Eddie (Edward), Benny (Benjamin), Jimmy (James), and more. Usually, such nicknames contain a youthful vibe that can often be perceived as childish or lacking in seriousness. This is partly because the vowel ending softens the name, and are also sounds that tend to be used (and even exaggerated) when speaking with children (e.g. "honeyyy," "beanieee," etc). However, when these types of highly informal names are reserved only for specific people, it can be a way to establish or signify intimacy and closeness.

Replaced

Have you ever wondered why Bill is a nickname for William? Or Dick is a nickname for Richard? After all, the name William doesn't contain the letter 'b,' and 'Richard' doesn't contain the consonants 'd' and 'k.' Hence, many are left bewildered. One reason for that is interchangeable consonant sounds. Centuries ago, when spelling and pronunciation wasn't standardized, some sounds in speech were used interchangeably and possibly sounded more similar to each other than they do today. Another reason is name-rhyming, which was done for the sake of differentiation and/or playfulness.

Vice Versa?

If someone's full legal name is already the nickname version, such as Rob (Robin), Andy (Andrew), Prue (Prudence), or Viv (Vivian), is it logical to go by the formal version? Well, the answer is... no, it is not; it doesn't really work that way. Why? Mainly because such names are derivatives — they extend from the formal variant, and probably wouldn't have existed without it. If we use an analogy of a tree, then a name like Sam is the branch of Samantha/Samuel, which are the stem. The latter do not derive from Sam, but vice versa. So, if a man with the legal name Sam goes by Samuel, it equates to having the stem come from the branch.

Madison, Mason, Quinn, Parker, Cooper... what do all these surnames have in common? They've turned into first names quite recently, around the 19th – 20th century, mainly in the United States. Hence, as first names, they are mainly associated with North America. But what about first names-turned-last, and what does it signify on a cultural level?

Paul, David, Thomas, Peter... what do all of them have in common? Initially, they were first names, but are now used as last names as well. Some were adopted as is, like Peter and David. Others, on the other hand, were turned into surnames more explicitly, for instance Peterson (son of peter), Williamson (son of William) etc; the third group only adds an additional s to the base, such as in Daniels and Edwards. These specific cases are known as patronymic names, derived from a father or ancestor. This indicates what though? If the patronymic surname is established, then it's usually a sign that — as a first name — it's deeply embedded within the culture that carries it. That's because it was used and absorbed by the society long enough to have the time and legitimacy to shift into a surname and cement itself. So, what does that mean? Deep cultural embedment of names within a culture — namely when used by various demographics — indicates that they are viewed at as ordinary, legitimate, and neutral enough that they don't point toward a foreign background.

Have you recently relocated to a country with a visa? Status: immigrant. Have you obtained citizenship after residing at a destination for many years? Status: naturalized citizen. Names, just like people, carry a certain status, which places them on different parts of the sociolinguistic scale. Their location on that scale can affect perceptions and assumptions... for better and for worse.

Indigenous

These are first names that were borne by the Anglo-Saxons who spoke Old English and lived in England since the beginning of the Middle ages, 5th century AD. Such names predate the Norman Conquest of 1066 AD; they are what one can call “homegrown," unaffected by foreign influence. But what does this mean? Well, it means they tend to carry a very old-school, classic, and practically iconic feel, as they are essentially the epitome of what an English name is. Since they are unmistakably and strongly linked to the Anglosphere, namely the United Kingdom, then they also bear all the associations that come with it. Examples of such boy names include Edward, Alfred, Harold, and Oswald. Some girl names include Edith, Ethel, Winifred, and Hilda.

3rd Generation Citizens

Did your grandparents immigrate to the country you were born in and grew up at? Maybe your distant ancestors arrived by boat to the land you call home? Names also “immigrate” to other countries; some names have been imported by foreigners into the UK. However, since they've been used by native-English speakers for so long, they've already been deeply embedded into the fabric of the Anglosphere. As a result, most view these names as English. A few boy names that are already “3rd generation" — or names that date back to the 11th – 18th century — include William (Germanic), Anthony (Latin), John (Semitic-Hebrew), and Christopher (Hellenic-Greek). Their popularity at the time varied, but they existed among Englishmen during Medieval England and the Early Modern Period, which included the Renaissance. As opposed to "indigenous" names, one of the main components these ones share is the Bible, or religion. Example of girl names are Mary, Catherine, Anne, and Elizabeth.

1st Gen Naturalized Citizens

Here, we arrive to the 19th century, otherwise known as the the Modern Period. The year 1800 was shortly after the establishment of the United States as a sovereign country, and was right before the Victorian Era. The names under this category are established in the English-speaking world. However, they haven't been deeply embedded in it yet because they started to emerge quite recently. They are "citizens," but not with ancestors that date far back. Though some of these names are considered very Anglophone/American nowadays, they still miss that old-school, traditional, or classic feel. Such names for boys include Parker and Cooper (occupational surnames-turned-first), and Beverly and Shirley for girls.

Immigrants

We're post WWII, having survived some of the darkest, most violent times in Europe. This is the contemporary period, where some first names are as creative as ever! Though many of them are part of the English lexicon, they are not firmly anchored in the Anglosphere, and many of them are perceived as youthful, quirky, trendy, imaginative, funny, or just plain bizarre. These perceptions may decrease the name's professionalism and seriousness, resulting in real-life consequences. Examples of girl names that fall under this umbrella term include Ember and Blaire. For boys: Dash, Saint, and River. Many of these "immigrant" names are nature-based or mythical, carrying a hippie, spiritual, or new-era vibe.

Adolf... what or who comes to mind when you hear that name? Now what about the name Cristiano? Let's try a third one: Winnie. I'm willing to bet that the first name conjured the image of an infamous man with a mustache, the second one made you picture a footballer, and the third one led you to think of a yellow bear eating honey. Am I right?

Names of past and present royals, politicians, activists, artists, athletes, and film characters can affect naming trends on a national and even global scale, depending on their level of fame. The name Adolf today, unsurprisingly, isn't very popular. But if WWII hadn't happened, would there be more people named Adolf today? According to official sources published by social security in the United States, the name Adolf left the list of top 1,000 baby boy names in 1928, ranking #950 that year. According to The Bump, the name Adolf was ranked at #8,132 in the year 1990. Hence, in the cultural context of the United States at least, it is difficult to concretely prove the correlation between WWII and the decline of Adolf as a given name for boys. However, it can be confidently concluded due to people's reaction to that name nowadays and other historical phenomena.

In February 2025, in Spain, David Beckham named his third son Cruz. Though appearing on the list of the top 1,000 baby boy names in the US since 1900, its popularity was on and off over the years and never exceeded the #550 rank until 2005. According to the graph, the name Cruz experienced a rapid and significant spike since that year, peaking in 2013 at number #279. This fast and sharp rise, which kicked off exactly when Cruz Beckham was born, is unlikely a coincidence. According to another source called Behind the Name, the name Cruz entered the UK's list in 2006, and is now ranked #227. In addition, the usage of the name has risen among non-Hispanic populations, which has diluted its cultural and linguistic origin. Why? Because a prominent Anglo family choosing this name for their son supposedly legitimizes its usage outside Portuguese and Spanish-speaking communities.

Angelina Jolie named her youngest son Knox in 2008. This name never appeared on the list of Top 1,000 Baby Boy Names in the US until 2009, when it ranked #704. Today, as of 2024, only 16 years later, it's ranked #209. This indicates a very rapid and remarkable rise within a relatively short timeframe since the year Angelina made her choice. Coincidence? I doubt it. But why the rise? Ok, Angelina named her son Knox, but so what? Well, because in many people's minds, names such as Knox and Cruz were chosen by people who hold a high and positive status in society, are liked, viewed as role models, or even admired, the former reflecting our view on power.

Now we enter the realm of the Kardashians, because sadly, who can avoid them? In 2015, Kim Kardashian named her son Saint. In 2018, in the US, it appeared for the first time on the list of top 1,000 boy names at number #857, and as of 2024 it's ranked #282.

But wait: does all this undoubtedly demonstrate causation? No. Also, to put things into proportion: though the name Saint is indeed ranked at #282 in 2024, the number of boys born with this name during that year is 1,195. Since the population of the US is around 340 million, it's actually not that common in relative terms. Other factors could have contributed to the rise of this name, such as religion.

William, Wyatt, Charlotte, Chantelle, Arthur, Alec, Katherine, Kayla... all monikers have a meaning, a history, a story; since Christianity has shaped the world in various ways, and still does, it's worth looking into the name that is its epitome: Christian. Granted, it is also used by some seculars, and has become mainstream in English-speaking countries, often detached from its meaning. However, its explicit link to the faith cannot be denied. So where did all it begin?

In the Beginning

The New Testament mentions the word "Christian" for the first time in Acts 11:26: "[...] and in Antioch the disciples were first called Christians." At the time, in Koine Greek, it was spelled Χριστιανός (Christianos), which is comprised of Χριστός (Christós, or "annointed one," a.k.a Messiah) and the suffix -ιανός (-ianos, or "belonging to"). Together, it means "follower of Christ."

As A Name

In Anglo-Saxon England, before the Norman Conquest of 1066 CE, it was primarily used as a word. It was only around the 12th century CE, post-Norman Conquest, that it began to establish itself more as a given name. Back then, prior to the invention of the printing press, spelling was not yet standardized, so the way it was written varied. For instance, the 14th century Wycliffe Bible contains the spelling "Cristen" ("so that the disciplis weren namyd first at Antioche cristen men," Acts 11:26). In the Tyndale Bible — made in 1522 by the English Biblical scholar and linguist William Tyndale — the consonant cluster ch was used instead ("so moche that the disciples of Antioche were the fyrst that were called Christen.") It was the King James Bible of 1611 that officially cemented the spelling as "Christian." In 1678, the famous book "A Pilgrim's Progress" — published by the English author John Bunyan — tells the story of a protagonist named Christian, spelled as such. Other than Bunyan's book, Samuel Johnson’s Dictionary from 1755 used “Christian” as the standard spelling as well. And as a surname? It has been used for centuries; a notable example includes Fletcher Christian, an English sailor who lived during the 18th century. But why the CH cluster? This was to reflect the original letter chi (Χ) in Greek, which made an aspirated K sound; kappa (k) was the hard K sound, reflected by the letter C in Latin.

And Now?

Today, according to official records published by Social Security, the name Christian has been ranked in the list of the Top 1,000 Boy Names for more than a century. In 1900, it was ranked #337. As of 2024, it is ranked #77, and peaked during the 90s and early 2000s, ranking #21 in 2006.

With some, the idea of "typical," "regular," or "normal" doesn't resonate when it comes to personal names. Why spell it "Jackson" when it can be "Jaxxon?" Why write it "Emily" when "Emileigh" is more unique? Alternative spellings of personal names are a relatively new trend that is continuing to gain traction; the reasons stem from separate or conjoined factors such as the rise in individualism, the need for originality, the influence of pop culture and more. Also referred to by some as "Tragedeigh Names" — a spin on the word "tragedy" — it's a topic worth discussing indeed.

One in a Million

I bet you can count on more than one hand the number of people named Olivia, Jackson, and Chloe that you encountered or heard of, or even Poul, which is the established official Danish variant of the name Paul and should not be confused with creative spellings. However, I bet you can name only one Olyvea, Cloeigh, or pawll at most, and probably not even that. Why? That's exactly the reason. People who choose such names for their children or themselves might feel that, if traditionally spelled, they risk being just a copy. They want something that stands out, something unique, something memorable!

One at Risk

If someone does have a name such as Jazminn (Jasmine), Ahlissah (Alyssa), or Taylur (Taylor), they might be one in a million, but also one at risk. Though the spelling is indeed unique, it may raise doubts, concerns, or dismissiveness in more traditional settings, potentially resulting in a rejected application. Whether this is justified or not, it can easily be explained. If someone's name is spelled creatively, it could create the assumption that the person comes from a nontraditional household or is not traditional themselves, leading to a perceived mismatch.

One Heck of a Hassle

You're at a Starbucks, or the bank, and you're asked to state your name. Most people, upon hearing the name Emily for instance, will spell it as such. When having a name that is spelled nontraditionally, it could cause one heck of a hassle. This is because the name bearer might constantly be required to correct people, especially in formal environments like a bank, and possibly feel pressured to explain the reasons behind the spelling. This could unfortunately lead to recurring frustration and emotional fatigue.

One Hell of a Race

The name Jaxon first appeared in 1997 on the chart of the Top 1,000 baby boy names in the United States, which is released annually by Social Security. In the first year it was ranked #862, and as of 2024 it is ranked #96. Jaxxon first appeared in 2017 and was ranked #846. As of 2024, it is ranked #807. So, names that were once unique, such as Jaxon, are not that unique nowadays. As a result, people attempt to "win the race" by inventing newer spellings, which is ultimately a never-ending race.

A name's linguistic origin — though not to the extent of its variant or popularity — has the ability to shape perceptions and create assumptions. Many monikers that we label as "English names" (e.g. Christopher, Sarah, Paul) are not English in origin. So, if you suspect the name that you'll give your newborn traces back to the English language, you might need to triple check that! But which ones have their roots in Old English, and which ones have grown from elsewhere?

Greek Origin

Boys: Andrew, Philip, Theodore, Nicholas, Damian, Christian, Dorian, Xander, Christopher, Timothy, Jason, Stephen, George

Girls: Sophia, Daphne, Phoebe, Penelope, Chloe, Katherine, Helen, Angela, Melissa, Iris, Theresa

Irish Origin

Boys: Rory, Ryan, Brian, Liam, Kevin, Ronan, Connor, Owen, Finn, Brendan

Girls: Shannon, Sloane, Bridget, Alana, Erin

Latin Origin:

Boys: Paul, August, Anthony (uncertain), Dominic, Vincent, Julian

Girls: Olivia, Victoria, Julia, Miranda, Claire, Vivian

Hebrew Origin

Boys: John, Matthew, James, Daniel, David, Sean, Jonathan, Nathaniel, Ethan, Joseph, Noah, Adam

Girls: Sarah, Elizabeth, Mary, Ruth, Naomi, Samantha (uncertain), Dinah

Surprised? That's what I thought. Very few actually predate the Norman Conquest and are truly and purely Anglo-Saxon. If you thought William, Henry, and Guy are some of those few, then you've got another thing coming; those are Germanic, and were actually imported. It's the names on the following list that derive from Old English:

Boys: Edward, Alfred, Edmund, Edgar, Harold, Edwin

Girls: Audrey, Elfrida, Hilda

Ever watched a video where the camera is set on an ant and slowly zooms out? As it's zooming out you can suddenly spot a cat, then a human, then a house, then a neighborhood, then a city, then a region, then a country, and so on. Well, the same applies to the cultural weight and associations of names. If you're thinking of a name for your baby, contemplating changing your own, or are just curious, then maybe understanding how "zoomed in" the camera is can help. But what do I mean by that?

Region

Let's zoom in and start with the name Muircheartach. It's a Gaelic Irish name, pronounced Mur-her-tach. It's mostly found in very few rural Irish-speaking areas, also known as Gaeltacht regions. So, if someone is named Muircheartach, it doesn't only zoom in on one country, but on a specific region within that country; it "locks them" in a very distinct cultural setting. Some people want to give their children names that are strongly tied to one specific place, while others prefer more versatility.

Country

Zooming out a bit, and we get to names such as Tadhg, Siobhán, and Séamus, which are distinctly Irish. In comparison, names like Wyatt, though very American — specifically Southern American — still have more of a reach and can be "pulled off" by non-Americans.

Shared Language Countries

If we zoom out with the camera lens a bit further, we start to see names like Jürgen, Sibylle, and Wolfgang. The first two names are unique to Germany, Austria, and the German-speaking regions of Switzerland and Belgium (though less common in those regions.) These names are very unique to German-speaking cultures while not being strictly tied to only one nation. If an Italian-American for instance chooses one of these name for their child, they will create a zoomed-in image that will probably not reflect the child's linguistic, ethnic, and cultural background. Many might assume or ask if the child is German or speaks German, which could be followed by a set of questions and odd glances due to the perceived mismatch. This isn't inherently bad of course, but it's something worth considering.

Shared Language Countries with a Caveat

Antonio, Juan, and Pablo are names that are distinctly Spanish, the variants of Anthony, John, and Paul. They often zoom in on Spain and Latin America, and due to Spain's colonization of the Philippines and the Hispanic influence in the United States, then they are commonly found in those regions as well. Using these names will most likely project a Hispanic image.

Different Language Countries: Limited

Zooming out further. Names like Paul, Oliver, and Simon, are the official spellings in the Anglosphere and also in roughly 3-5 non-English speaking countries in Europe, such as Denmark and France. This means that if someone's name is Paul, it doesn't strictly lock them in one English-speaking country or even in the Anglosphere. This versatility often creates fewer and less fixed assumptions. It also allows for easier assimilation in the countries that spell it the same way.

Different Language Countries: Expansive

Zooming out, our lens focuses on names such as Maria and David. These names, with their exact spelling, are used in various countries that speak different languages. If someone bears one of these two names, then it will be more difficult to pin them down on the map without additional context.

The Ultimate Chameleon

Now, our camera lens is focused at the entire globe. This name has already been discussed in another post; it is the ultimate global name that is spelled the same in at least 15 languages across the world. That name is of course... Daniel.