What's in a Name? The Possibilities are Endless...

This month’s topic- “What’s in a Name?”- will wrap up on Thursday with a “media night” discussion on the movie “Sommersby”. Watch it prior to Thursday if you can.

Today’s entry is simply random thoughts regarding naming that I find interesting to think about.

Boxer George Foreman named all four of his sons “George”. He once joked that this cleaned the slate from his accidentally calling someone by the wrong name. “Sting” and “Madonna” and “Cher” and a few non-celebrities I know of have renamed or defined themselves with a single name. What does it mean to present oneself this way? Does a single name stand apart, above, or beyond? (“God” doesn’t have a surname either.)

Some names sound like “brands”? Blade, Desire, P Diddy, Eminem. Does a brand name sort of make you a superhero?

I have a friend who named his dog Gi-li, pronounced "Gill'ee," the Cherokee word for “dog”. Essentially, he named his dog “Dog”. This bothers me for some reason.

I read about a study that followed trends in naming among Asians new to America. Words that had phonetics similar to their native languages often became their children’s (unusual) names. “Jackyl” was among the most popular. I imagine that the “Jackyls’” parents may have later regretted not doing more name-meaning research. And maybe the time came, especially for the boys, when having the “brand” of Jackyl was a good thing.

In a recent blog I mentioned a man I knew of whose last name was “Queer”. As you’d predict, he endured a lifetime of razzing over his name. When asked why he didn’t just change his name, he answered, “Well, because my father was a Queer, and his father was a Queer, and his father before that....”.

Finally, there’s my cousin, Brian James Donald Duff. His parents felt that the two middle names were too important for either to be left out. Brian, with his uncommonly long name, recently married. He and his wife are "progressive," creative folks, and they decided that as a couple they should merge and share both of their last names. My cousin is now Brian James Donald Grace-Duff. (Wonder how many names their kids will have...?)

What's in a Name? Heritage...? Baggage...?

A current discussion in the adoption advocacy movement focuses on the significance of naming, particularly in the context of international adoptions. Advocates ask, “Would it be a benefit to an adoptee to carry an original name, or a name native to his/her country's language, with him/her to life in America?” The proposition raises many considerations.

When a Chinese child is placed in a white, American family, there is no denying- within the family or in the broader social context- that the child is not the adoptive parents’ progeny. Having a name from his/her country’s native language, some propose, would be an open and positive affirmation of the child’s heritage and could give the child some sense of connection to the past. Yet there are many ways that an adoptee could interpret, so to speak, having a “native” name. Fundamentally, an adoptee must negotiate the idea that he/she was “given up”, intentionally amputated from the family line. An international adoptee might feel that not only has he/she been rejected by a birthfamily but also by an entire culture, his or her ethnic family.

So while a native name might give an adoptee a sense of connection to his/her origins, it could also be a reminder of the scope of his/her “rejection”. A native name might additionally feel like a barrier to an adoptee, leaving him/her feeling not-fully-invited to assimilate into his/her adopted culture?

In the case of adoptions in same-race families, what might it mean to an adoptee to know that he/she carries a name given to him/her by birthparents? Is it a positive thing, like being in possession of a “truth”? Is it a bitter reminder of “not really belonging to” the adoptive family and also having been rejected by the birthfamily?

There probably aren’t any hard and fast answers. Every adoptee is an individual. And mixed feelings, mixed messages, play a prominent role in adoptee-life. It’s interesting to think about... Would I want to carry an original name into my adoptive life? What would that mean to me?

What would it mean to you, as an adoptee?

What's in a Name? An Inherent Meaning...?

I think it's safe to say, given the popularity of "name books", that there must be a fair degree of belief that names, as words, have inherent meaning. What if a word sounds great but its meaning is not desirable- rule it out? What if a name meaning is just perfect but the word isn't pretty sounding- use it anyway? I'd imagine that phonetics and meaning have to be in just the right balance in almost every case.

What do parents owe to their children in choosing names? I know of a couple whose last name is Bahr (pronounced "bar") who named their children Candy and Clark. Then there's the man I met whose last name is Queer. Evidently the family have a long history of loyalty to the name. When asked (not by me) why he didn't change his name to avoid the razzing (and probably playground scuffles)he endured, he assertively replied, "Well, because my father was a Queer, and his father was a Queer, and his father before that..." I guess it's kind of like brand-loyalty?

For adoptees who are interested in name meanings, names pose another facet of identity that might be something that's struggled with. [Should it really have been mine? Does it "count" if my real (biological) parents didn't give it to me? Can I live up to it? Why was I named after someone I'm not "really" realated to?]

Do you like your name, and what does it mean to you?

What's in a Name- A Long Line of (Whoevers)

At every Miller Family Reunion, out come a sprawling collection of photos, articles, even memorabilia sometimes. (I'm not sure where they indefinitely continue coming up with new material.) The Millers take turns poring over history, reflecting and affirming the identities of more Millers and Crawfords and Roberts' in the archives. I peek over shoulders at the photos, enjoying seeing who-looks-like-whom. I instinctively understand the comfort and pleasure they are deriving in looking back. But I can't really immerse much. I both am, and am not, a Miller. I'm adopted.

My family don't see it this way. In fact it's puzzling to me how they imagine that I identify with their geneology. My dad is so proud to tell me about MY great-great-great grandfather. To me, the extended family whom I've known and had relationships with are indeed my aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. But there it ends. In terms of history, I am a recent invention.

The "reminiscent" aspect of family reunions makes me ill at ease. I become haunted about being an interloper. I get flashes of apprehension sometimes, thinking, "I don't belong here." So I steer clear of the photos and focus on the here-and-now.Do you ever find yourself in situations that make you question your belongingness in your adoptive family?

What's in a Name- "Identity Crisis"

WHAT’S IN A NAME?
“Identity Crisis”

Prominent 20th Century psychologist Erik Erikson is an interesting “fit” for adoptees- starting with his name. Erikson was born out of an extramarital affair and during his childhood his biological father’s identity was kept secret from him. Erikson was adopted by a stepfather and came to bear the stepfather’s last name (Homberger). But in adulthood, after learning that his biological father’s first name was probably Erik, Erik Homberger changed his name to Erik Erikson (“Erikson” meaning “son of Erik”).

In cultivating his theories of developmental psychology, Erikson conceived the phrase “identity crises”. He believed that a healthy sense of identity requires a sense of “personal sameness and historical continuity”. This theory is literally reflected in Erikson’s name-change- he sought to reclaim his own history and truth, as do so many adoptees.

Erikson is known for his “8 stages of psychosocial development”. The stages present another interesting fit for adoptees. The first stage, in infancy, is “Trust vs. Mistrust” and is basically defined by the question, “Does the child believe his/her caretakers to be reliable?” Think of the adoptee’s very first experience of the world. Taken away from Mother, perhaps fostered temporarily by an agency employing multiple caretakers, finally placed with yet new strangers who would become the adoptee’s family. The adoptee’s life foundation is shifting sand!

In high school, when I first learned about Erikson’s developmental stages, I remember thinking to myself, “Oh great, I flunked the first one,” meaning that I’d failed the very first “test”- trusting. I later came to learn how accurate my reaction was- I had recognized that a shaky sense of trust was informing, and limiting, my life experience. Since the resolution of each developmental stage affects the next, a ripple effect occurs. Each test is harder to “pass”. Developing self confidence, self esteem, identity, were all near-crippling tasks for me. As an adult I can appreciate how pronounced the stresses were for me compared to my not-adopted peers. But at the time, an abject sense of utter aloneness weighed on me on top of the trials of each stage. And I know that, although I’ve successfully navigated many gauntlets since then, challenges are ongoing.

If you’ve ever looked at Erikson’s “stages” (or if you care to take a look now), how do you respond to his ideas? Do they ring true? Does this fellow-adoptee help frame the process of growing and living in a way that’s helpful or validating for you?

What's in a Name- An Expression

A name is a person’s “very first thing”. Bestowed by a parent or caretaker, one’s name is the pivot of one’s identity. “I am……”

The naming of someone is never taken lightly. There are months of discussion, books on name-meanings. Names are chosen for their connotations and for their sounds, to establish connection to others, to establish connection to heritage and to self.
To my knowledge and from what records indicate I was not given a name at birth. I was called “Peggy” by nurses during my six months at the adoption agency. Then, upon my adoption, I was “officially” named.

My adoptive parents suffered terrible losses trying to have a child of their own- five miscarriages, with the fifth nearly claiming my adoptive mother’s life. My adoptive name- Joy- is an expression of their happiness at becoming, at last, parents.

My parents’ families have long traditions of naming children “after” someone who came before. I don’t know that I would feel good being named from a genealogy that isn’t mine. My name is true to who I am in relation to my parents. My name is mine and I’m ok with it.

What is the story of YOUR name, and would you have it otherwise if you could?