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Louise Thomas
Editor
Yesterday, Tory leadership hopeful Robert Jenrick reportedly elicited shocked gasps from the audience during an on-stage interview at the Conservative Party conference. What prompted such reverberations from the party faithful? Was it a controversial new policy, an outlandish campaign slogan, or one of those cringey pop culture references that politicians sometimes use when they’re trying to seem totally normal, honest? No: it was the revelation that the ex-cabinet minister named his 11-year-old daughter in tribute to a certain former prime minister. Her middle name is “Thatcher”.
Jenrick noted that his daughter was born the same year that Margaret Thatcher died – as if that somehow made this decision a totally reasonable one – and claimed that the name was “a good way of reminding her of a good prime minister”, as well as being a tribute to “strong women”. It’s just the latest example of the Tories’ bizarre one-upmanship when it comes to Thatcher idolatry; at this point in the leadership contest, I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the candidates set up an Iron Lady hologram in their garden shed, like some nightmare neoliberal version of ABBA Voyage. But it also poses the question: how “out there” is too “out there” when it comes to naming your children?
Names are a key part of our identity; they’re usually the first thing that other people learn about us and might, for better or worse, shape their perceptions accordingly. And we’re generally expected to keep them for our entire lives (unless we pull off cultivating a nickname or go down the route of changing our moniker by deed poll, before drowning in admin to amend ID documents accordingly). Parents certainly have a big responsibility: they must consider how their preferred name choice will impact their kid day to day, from childhood, into the minefield of embarrassment that is adolescence, and then into adulthood.
Will it raise eyebrows among, say, teachers at their primary school? Will it lead to mockery in the playground, or pointed comments in the office? Will it make them feel the need to share a convoluted anecdote about their name’s provenance to everyone they meet when a fully fledged grown-up?
Naming your child in accordance with your political beliefs isn’t entirely unheard of. Keir Starmer’s parents are thought to have named him after Keir Hardie, the first ever leader of the Labour Party. Liz Truss called one of her daughters Liberty. But taking a former PM’s surname and bestowing it upon a baby is certainly an interesting choice. As a middle name, it’s at least slightly hidden (until now) – but wouldn’t Margaret have been a bit less obtrusive? It would certainly result in fewer conversations about free market economics and milk snatching at pre-teen sleepovers.
While some countries, including Iceland and Denmark, have lists of approved baby names, the UK has no hard and fast rules about what you can and can’t call your child. If you pick something that contains swear words, insults, numerals, titles that are misleading, or just a word that is pretty much impossible to pronounce, though, your choice may well be rejected by an official when you try to register it. In 2016, for example, a Welsh mother was banned from naming her daughter “Cyanide” after the poison (she had argued that it was a “lovely, pretty name”).
Christening your baby “Adolf Hitler” is illegal in Germany, for obvious reasons, while in France there have been a few high-profile cases where judges have intervened specifically to prevent a child’s future embarrassment. Like in 2015, when a couple were banned from calling their daughter Nutella (yes, everyone loves a chocolatey hazelnut spread, but surely not that much). The judge ruled that it was “contrary to the child’s interest to have a name that can only lead to teasing or disparaging thoughts”, and told the parents to name her Ella instead.
The scope of what we consider to be ‘ordinary’ names is shifting
That same year, another French couple, hailing from Perpignan in the south of the country, were prevented from using the name “Prince William” for their son, after prosecutors ruled that this would cause the child a “lifetime of mockery”. The parents then requested to use the name “Minnie Cooper” (the absolute jokers) but this too was rejected. Some might think this too much interference by the state, an infringement of personal freedoms. But cases like these also highlight that a truly bizarre name can prove a hindrance to a child and that setting them up for years of teasing perhaps isn’t in a kid’s best interests.
It’s worth noting, too, that the scope of what we consider to be “ordinary” names is shifting. Naming practices are always in flux, reflecting cultural trends, and it seems that parents are increasingly opting for more unusual choices. In 1955, half of the babies born in the United States had one of 78 names; in 2019, half of US newborns had one of 520 names. In other words, the pool of names in the US appears to be getting wider and wider. According to the BBC, before 1800, half of all English men had the same four first names; by 2012, the top four most popular names accounted for only 7 per cent of English baby boys.
In recent years, we’ve seen news stories about the upsurge in popularity of pop culture-related names that nod towards franchises like Game of Thrones or Star Wars, as well as the rise of baby name advisers, who can steer you towards a unique choice for your little darling. Back in the Noughties, Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin’s decision to call their kids Apple and Moses was widely mocked in the press. Now, their choices don’t even seem that eccentric – partly because “civilian” names have got a bit more creative, and partly because celebrity kids’ names have stepped up a gear too. Take model and influencer Nara Smith, for instance. When this TikTok star isn’t busy making chewing gum or Coca-Cola from scratch, she seems to be cooking up unique if bizarre baby names: her kids are called Rumble Honey, Slim Easy and Whimsy Lou.
Surely lighting upon the perfect name is a balancing act between finding something that’s special to you without being utterly outlandish (and that won’t lead to annoying nicknames)? And, as a general rule of thumb, maybe don’t namecheck one of your country’s most divisive political figures. Your future child will certainly thank you.
