The Cross-Cultural Name Game

With less than three weeks before the baby’s due date, we still haven’t settled on a name. And that’s with names from two languages to choose from.

The deal Darling Man and I struck when I was pregnant with Miss M was that I would choose an English name and he’d choose a Vietnamese name. We’d both have the power of veto over the other’s choice. And the English name would be used first, the Vietnamese name as a middle name, with the baby able to use either or both when she grows up.

We ended up with a name we both liked, a name that suits our feisty now-four-year-old — not too common and not too out-there. We’ll just ignore the fact that when Miss M was just a few weeks old we discovered it was also the name of my cousin’s dog.

Now we’re playing the name game again, and second time round it seems much more difficult than the first. Perhaps, like boy and girl baby clothes, boys names just aren’t as groovy as girls names.

This time round I added a new rule to the name game — no bible names. This wasn’t a factor when we were choosing a girls name, possibly because there are far fewer girls than boys who rate a mention in the bible. But I thought it was a bit silly, hypocritical even, to use a bible name in a mixed agnostic-Buddhist family.

So, immediately, names like Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Simon, Peter, Andrew and Thomas and all their variations are off the table.

Like most other parents, names of idiots I went to school with, worked with, associated with or read about in the news are also not in the running. I’d love to list them here but, you know, it could get me into trouble.

Names from popular culture can’t be used because we don’t want to seem low-brow, so no Austin (Powers), Jack (Bauer), Bogart, Brando, Clarke (Kent), Denzel, Maverick, Frodo or Neo.

Then there’s the English names that come from occupations, many of them violent or tradesman-y. Do I want to condemn my child to a career as a Hunter, Archer, Bishop, Carver, Chandler, Baker, Carver, Fletcher, Mason, Cooper or Smith?

Oh, and we can’t have a popular baby name. Not when we’re so radical and anti-establishment. (Please read that in the tongue-in-cheek way it was written.)

Then we get to the Vietnamese names which are on my no-way-Jose list. These are names that don’t work well in English, like Phuc, Hung, Tung, Duc, Sinh, Thinh and Phat. The list also includes names that are just too hard for English-speakers to pronounce, like Tuan, Ngoc, Huynh, Tuyen and Xuan. Oh, and I’m not too keen on any name with a diacritic, like Cường, or either of the Vietnamese Ds, like Đô or Dũng (D without a cross is pronounced Y or Z, depending on which part of Vietnam you’re from).

Phat and Phuc are both on my no-way list of boy’s names

My list eliminates quite a hefty chunk of the small pool of Vietnamese names. And that’s before we get to the Vietnamese naming traditions, which dictate that you can’t name a baby after a dead relative or an older relative, friend or associate who could die during the baby’s lifetime. The belief is that if you use a dead person’s name regularly, their ghost will think you’re talking to them, so they’ll be tempted to stick around rather than to go to where ever it is they’re supposed to go to.

In our case, I don’t even know the names of Darling Man’s dead or elderly relatives. Darling Man only has a vague idea, so wants to keep checking with his parents. Ugh.

This Vietnamese tradition means my late grandfather’s gorgeous Scottish name, Lachlan, which I’ve often thought should be used for one of his great-grandkids, is also unacceptable. (Darling Man says it doesn’t sound good to his Vietnamese ear, anyway.)

We did settle on a great name a few months ago, until we realised the initials would be B.S. We. Just. Couldn’t.

Naming the baby after a historical figure was an idea that flared after I saw a photo of August Landmesser refusing to perform the Nazi salute. But August is a bit of a mouthful and Gus sounds like a name for a pet snail. (Sorry to each and every August or Gus out there.)

Things aren’t made any easier at this late stage of proceedings. In the past month, Darling man and I have only managed one Facebook chat about names, the result of being in different countries, on different time zones and busy with tours (him) and parenting (me).

Miss M is, of course, making helpful name suggestions like Zany-Cany-Bany-Ga and Pepa Pig. Sigh.

I am spending nights on baby name websites, looking up the meanings of names that I kind-of like. It seems like a very shallow way to choose a name … but as a parent it’s my prerogative to change the name story down the track. (It can’t be worse than my mum’s decision, made during a religious phase, to name me after her favourite missionary, Sister Barbara, who was working in the Congo or somewhere else in deepest darkest Africa.)

So, with less than three weeks until the due date, we don’t really have a name. We have a short list and we’ll see what seems to suit him best when he finally emerges.

Of course, the scans could be wrong and he could be a she. And that would mean I could use one of the names on our old short-list.

Any name suggestions you may have will go onto our to-be-considered list. Don’t delay, time is running out!

 
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By: Barbara

A career girl who dropped out, traveled, found love, and never got around to going home again. Now wrangling a cross-cultural relationship and two third culture kids.