Abstract
Naming practices provide a novel way to explore contemporary gender and class processes in Australia. Names are important everyday symbols of social location and signify family history, gender, class, ethnicity and religion. In an individualised society a name is the ultimate personal ‘brand’ and is used to locate children in social space. In this article we draw on qualitative interviews with 41 parents to focus on class and gender distinctions in naming practices. Naming a child was considered to be an important responsibility and names were viewed as central to identity and social classification. Through our exploration of naming preferences and judgements by middle-class parents, contemporary processes of social distinction come to light. Discussion of name choices illustrated parental aspirations and fears and the drawing of symbolic class-, gender- and sexuality-based cultural boundaries in Australia.
In this article we explore the values and experiences of parents naming their children, providing a novel window on parents’ aspirations for their children. We discuss how the apparent individualisation of naming operates alongside and in tension with naming as a claim to enduring social status and belonging. Through our exploration of the preferences and judgements of middle-class parents in this study, contemporary processes of social distinction come to light. We discuss social distinction in terms of class and gender and the intersections between these apparent in parents’ descriptions of how they chose names for their children.
The first names given to children offer a rare opportunity to study taste (Lieberson and Bell, 1992) because naming systems are technologies of ‘differentiation and belonging’ (Palsson, 2014). Bourdieu’s (1984) work on social distinction and the concept of ‘symbolic capital’ is particularly useful for understanding how parents display their knowledge of how to position their children in the class system as we outline in our theoretical approach below.
In line with the individualisation thesis there is more freedom for parents to choose first names for their children on the basis of individual taste as institutional, religious and extended family pressures decline (Lieberson and Bell, 1992). Yet naming remains centrally about giving a child a social location and belonging within a kin network, so kin names continue to hold appeal (Finch, 2008). In Anglo-Saxon naming traditions, the surname locates the person in a kin network while the first name offers the opportunity for individuality (Finch, 2008). As names research has shown, individuality is circumscribed by social context. As Pilcher (2015: n.p.) notes, names constitute embodied socially contextualised selves: ‘Our names are both constituted by and help to constitute our sexed and gendered selves, our racialized and ethnic identities and other identifications that make us both a unique individual and a culturally embedded and socially administered citizen.’
Most of the sociological literature on first-name choices in English-speaking countries comes from the US and this research has found name choices for children are patterned according to gender, race and educational background. We outline the key patterns below and augment this with available information on Australian trends (McCrindle Research, 2015).
In the United States boys, and particularly first-born boys, have traditionally been much more likely than girls or younger boys to be named for kin. According to the classic study by Rossi in the 1960s the naming of boys favoured primogeniture and shows that ‘men are the symbolic carriers of the temporal continuity of the family’ (Rossi, 1965: 503). Several decades later, Lieberson and Bell (1992), using a large random sample of first names given to white and black children between 1973 and 1985, found interesting intersections between gender, race and education. They found that boys’ names were more concentrated than girls’ names (fewer options were chosen) and there was more stability over time. By contrast, the greater range of girls names chosen, less stability over time and greater turnover suggested that girls names were more subject to fashion. Girls’ names were more likely to be decorative, diminutive or made-up names reflecting their lower status. Interestingly, French names were commonly given to girls but rarely given to boys in the USA. According to Lieberson and Bell (1992: 521) ‘images of the French in the United States are associated with fashion, cuisine, style, and culture’, which may explain why parents see French names as appropriate for girls rather than boys. Thus there is more ‘play’ and ‘innovation’ with girls names while boys names are more likely to be ‘traditional’ or ‘old fashioned’ (Lieberson and Bell, 1992).
The sound of names has also been found to be gendered in the USA. Many girls names end in a ‘schwa-like’ sound (e.g. Sarah or Jessica) or long ‘ee’ sound while boys names are much more likely to end in a consonant (double the rate of female names) (Lieberson and Bell, 1992). Barry Jr and Harper (1995) developed a phonetic gender score and found that girls’ names sounded different from boys’ names, suggesting that girls names may be perceived to be more ‘attractive’ and male names as more ‘powerful’ because of their structure and sound when spoken (Barry Jr and Harper, 1995). The smaller variety of names given to boys suggests more rigid stereotyping with boys names (Barry Jr and Harper, 1995).
Contemporary Australian names show some similar gendered patterns – girls’ names tend to be longer and have ‘softer’ endings. According to the McCrindle report:
90% of the girls’ names (18) in the Top 20 list end with a vowel or ‘y’, with half (10) of these ending with the letter ‘a’, producing the gentle ‘ah’ finish. Only 2 of the Top 20 names end with a consonant – Madison and Scarlett. On the boy’s list, however, 90% of the Top 20 names end with a consonant sound! ‘N’ is most popular ending consonant for 4 names in the Top 20, with just two names in the Top 20 boys’ list – Noah and Henry – featuring a soft ending. (McCrindle Research, 2015: 6)
Australian boys are more likely than girls to be given ‘traditional’ names. Four of the top 10 boys’ names are biblical whereas none of the top 10 girls’ names are. Boys are also more likely to be given a name shared by members of the British royal family, though these are popular for girls as well (McCrindle Research, 2015). The popularity of unisex or androgynous names fluctuates but the usual pattern is that a boy’s name becomes popular for girls as well and then goes on to lose popularity with boys (Barry Jr and Harper, 1995; Lieberson et al., 2000: 818). In Australia there is currently only one name in the top 100 popular names given to both boys and girls – Charlie, though other names appear to be in the process of crossing from boys to girls – e.g. Jordan, Riley, Tyler and Dylan (McCrindle Research, 2015).
In terms of social class, mothers’ education has been found to have a strong influence on naming choices in the USA. This is particularly the case with naming girls.
In general, highly educated mothers are less likely to give their daughters names that are in the ‘traditional’ or ‘conventional’ female mould. It is as if they wish to have daughters who are taken more seriously and with less emphasis on names that are frilly. (Lieberson and Bell, 1992: 537)
A Californian study of naming is reported extensively in the popular book Freakanomics (Levitt and Dubner, 2010). Levitt and Dubner illustrate ethnic, socio-economic and gender distinctions in US naming and how naming choice is dynamic: ‘once a name catches on among high-income, highly educated parents, it starts working its way down the socio-economic ladder’ (2010: 204). Parents are interested in aspirational names that sound ‘successful’, which reinforces a fashion cycle where upper-class parents choose relatively obscure names to distinguish their children and these are then taken on by lower-class families in the following decade. Levitt and Dubner (2010: 207) conclude that name choice signals parents ‘own expectations’ of how successful their child will be.
In the psychology literature there are several well-developed lines of research that have found that the popularity and perceived attractiveness of both first names and surnames are associated with success in recruitment and the job market, academic success and higher incomes. By contrast, less common names and/or less attractive names have been linked with discrimination or poorer outcomes in these domains (Pascual et al., 2015). Yet other studies have found that in some groups and in particular contexts unusual names can be beneficial in assisting people to stand out as individuals (Zweigenhaft, 1981). Finally there is an important line of workplace research which has used field experiments to uncover ethnic discrimination against names from diverse ethnic backgrounds in the US (Pager and Shepherd, 2008). An Australian field experiment found that those with Chinese or Middle Eastern names would have to apply for 50 per cent more jobs than those with Anglo names to receive the same number of return calls from employers (Booth et al., 2012).
In summary, the extant literature shows that the choice of first names is socially patterned along gender, race and socio-economic axes, and linked with patterns of inequality. Our study offers a new perspective on the social processes of naming by analysing qualitative interviews about middle-class parents’ considerations and negotiations when they named their children, and how these reflect family status, aspirations, fears and, in some cases, middle-class individualisation. This is the first study to include parents who had their children in same-sex relationships and provides an insight into their naming decisions.
Method
This article is based on 41 in-depth, semi-structured telephone interviews with a selection of the parents who completed an online survey on naming choices in contemporary families.
Telephone interviews were conducted with 30 women and 11 men by the authors and a research assistant. For our sample of parents with caring responsibilities, this method was convenient as they could choose the time and place of the interview. We aimed to sample as diverse a range of parents as feasible. This was done through initial screening questions about relationship status, whether the participant was a surname ‘keeper’ or a ‘changer’, and whose surname the children had. In this sense, the interview sample is ‘purposeful’ (Patton, 2015). It enabled us to find out about the views of people in same-sex and heterosexual relationships who made a range of different decisions about the children’s and adults’ names in their families. The final interview sample comprises 16 married participants, 7 in a heterosexual cohabiting relationship, 8 in a lesbian relationship, 4 in a gay relationship and 6 who were single. Taking occupation and education levels into account we characterise the sample as predominantly middle class. Participants had high levels of education (78% were tertiary educated). Bourdieu (1984) conceptualises social class as a multi-dimensional social space where different modes of economic and cultural capital are in play. Atkinson (2016) usefully provides a contemporary class schema of occupations using Bourdieu’s concepts. Following Atkinson’s (2016) model, 11 of our participants are classified in the dominant class; including 3 cultural dominants (2 academics and an author), 4 in the professions (including a GP and an accountant), 2 white-collar workers and 2 business executives (a CEO and a manager). Thirteen of the participants are in the intermediate class; 5 cultural intermediaries (e.g. nurse and social worker), 3 technicians (research analysts) and 1 lower manager and proprietor (small business owner). Three of our participants are in the dominated class; including 1 in caring services (a personal carer) and 2 sales workers. In addition there were 3 students and for the remaining 11 no occupation was recorded.
Procedure
We were given ethics clearance from both Swinburne and Monash universities to conduct the interviews. We established a website and advertised the survey on university bulletin boards and staff email lists. We produced cards advertising the survey and distributed these to health centres, libraries and leisure centres in Melbourne. Survey participants were also asked to indicate if they were willing to participate in a follow-up telephone interview and interview participants were selected from this pool. Survey responses were not linked to the interview accounts participants provided.
Themes discussed in the interviews included: the negotiation process about changing or keeping adults’ surnames and whose surnames children were given; first names, surnames and extended family relationships; first names, surnames and cultural heritage, beliefs about gender underpinning surnames and first names; children’s views about names and their significance; and the impact of naming decisions on family relationships.
Interviews were analysed thematically with close attention to drawing out similarities and differences based on the relationship status and sexuality of participants. In the reporting of the results, the first and family names of participants and their children have been changed in order to protect their identities. In the next section we outline our theoretical approach before our findings on how names function as symbolic capital.
Theoretical approach
In this article we draw on Bourdieu’s concepts of capital and social distinction. Bourdieu (1984) argues that types and amount of capital (economic, cultural, social) determine a person’s economic and symbolic position, and capacity for movement and accumulation of capital over time (Mallman, 2015). For Bourdieu ‘the family remains one of the sites for the accumulation, conservation and reproduction of different types of capital’ (1998: 108). Symbolic capital can be considered a combined or legitimated form of the other capitals. Symbolic capital is attached to groups and is ‘both the instrument and the stakes of collective strategies seeking to conserve or increase it, by joining groups which possess it … and by distinguishing themselves from groups which possess little or are destitute’ (Bourdieu, 1998: 104). Bourdieu argues that in differentiated societies ethnic identity, perceived through names or skin colour, can function as positive or negative symbolic capital (Bourdieu, 1998: 104). In this article we argue that children’s first names operate in a similar way, as positive or negative symbolic capital locating children in social space.
Through processes of social distinction, cultural value, or that which is viewed as worthwhile and legitimate, is assigned to elite tastes while lower-class tastes are stigmatised through acts of symbolic violence (Bourdieu, 1984, 1998). A strong body of work from UK sociologists has drawn on Bourdieu’s concepts and extended these with feminist analysis to illustrate how class and gender intersect in the judgements made by the middle class about working-class preferences and tastes (Adkins, 2004). Following Bourdieu, ‘taste is not innate but an effect of unequal social processes’ (Lawler, 2005: 440). Skeggs (1997) has shown how working-class women struggle to be viewed as ‘respectable’ by middle-class observers. More recently the stereotype of the ‘chav’ and ‘chavmum’ are used by middle-class people to degrade and devalue the working class in the UK (Skeggs and Loveday, 2012). Lawler (2005) argues that expressions of ‘disgust’ about violations of taste are part of a long-standing middle-class project of distinguishing itself from the repellent ‘other’. Through micro-processes of everyday judgement ‘middle-class existence is silently marked as normal and desirable’ (Lawler, 2005: 431).
Our research on names also contributes to a growing body of new qualitative research on how social distinction and social class operates in Australia. For instance, Mallman (2015) has documented the experiences of people from working-class backgrounds negotiating higher education (Mallman, 2015) while Pini and colleagues have theorised about ‘bogans’ who are judged as lacking the competences and skills of the middle class despite their recent economic success (Pini and Previte, 2013).
Names as symbolic capital
We argue that names operate as symbolic capital and naming is used as a strategy to distinguish and socially locate children. Names create belonging and connection – they situate the child in a cultural and historical network of kin (Finch, 2008). Simultaneously, names also create and reinforce social distinction in terms of class location, cultural location and ethnic background. In this section we analyse the use of names as symbolic capital that asserts class location. Australians with their egalitarian ethic are reluctant to discuss the operation of social class distinction in Australia yet our interviewees frequently evoke these processes when they discuss the judgements that they and others make, or are assumed to make, about particular names and the social locations identified by those names.
All parents we interviewed saw naming their children as a serious responsibility that would have a lasting impact on the future lives of their offspring. Names were understood as central to identity and social classification across a range of spheres – so naming became an important process of identity-making for their babies. Parents recognised that a name is called forth on a daily basis, by official bodies such as passport control, courts, childcare centres, schools and health providers. In more intimate settings such as families and friendship groups, nicknames and shortened names can be used, but one’s full official name cannot be discarded or disregarded easily. As Elizabeth explains:
You can change names around and shorten and lengthen things but it’s still on your passport, it’s still who you are. (Elizabeth, married, interview 19)
Some parents felt that there was a particular onus on parents to make the ‘right’ choice in naming that would not have a bad effect on a child’s life chances. For our research participants, names have far-reaching consequences and create an impression for diverse audiences of who the person is. Thus a good name can smooth a path to future success while a poor choice of name can create an obstacle to be ‘overcome’ or managed throughout the child’s life. Processes of asserting cultural superiority are in play in choosing names for children (Lawler, 2005; Mallman, 2015; Skeggs, 1997). Many of the middle-class parents in our study were keen to choose a name that would be ‘taken seriously’ foregrounding the expectation that their children would be ‘bright’ and exceptional (Gillies, 2005).
People often have an idea of who a person is when they read their name on a business card. So I wouldn’t like any person to be underestimated based on their name … the first impression often makes a difference for a person. So if my son would always have to overcome a first impression, I didn’t want that for him. (Shelly, married, interview 15)
Implicit in this quote is the idea that Shelly was naming an adult with an occupation. The name reflects a future class position in that her son needs a name worthy of a ‘business card’. By implication, this is a name that is credible for a white-collar worker or professional.
Aspirational names took several different forms. Some parents chose ‘traditional’ or ‘conventional’ names, while others chose distinctive or unusual names as befitting future leaders and achievers. The occupations of High Court judge or barrister were mentioned by several participants as examples of high-status professional positions their children could conceivably obtain. For Brigid, securing the class position for her children that she had achieved over her lifetime was a high priority, even though she was self-conscious about this in the interview, ‘you’ve made me reflect on my class-ism’:
Well I work as a lawyer – and it’s not part of my history … but so much of the social circles that I move in through work are around middle, upper-class private school […] who you know, school tie, that kind of thing. Whilst we don’t buy into that I am conscious that both of the kids have names that mean that they could mix in that group quite comfortably which is important to me. My partner always says that B is a great judge’s name. If it’s the Right Honourable or Doctor or a teacher or whatever it might be, they’ve got a name that sounds like it might have a bit of authority. (Brigid, same-sex relationship, interview 28)
By contrast, as for other matters of taste, names assumed to be lower class are demeaned or pathologised by our middle-class participants (Lawler, 2005; Mallman, 2015; Skeggs, 1997). The assumptions made about particular names and the social location of the people that have these names are examples of symbolic violence (Bourdieu, 1998) as participants asserted their advantaged position in the social hierarchy by stigmatising particular names. Names to be avoided were labelled by some parents as ‘checkout operator’ names or ‘childcare worker’ names, or ‘DHS (Department of Human Services) client’ names indicating family dysfunction, and ‘made-up’ names with ‘creative spelling’. As Natalie expressed it: ‘I don’t mean to be rude but we call them bogan names, a bit made up – just sort of funny.’
Elizabeth believed that ‘conservative’ and ‘traditional’ names created the impression that their children could and should be taken seriously, and would one day grow into adults with social responsibilities. They also indicated their future paths should be full of opportunities for social mobility. There is a sense in Elizabeth’s story that the conventional names chosen were somewhat boring but this was a price worth paying for the opportunities created or enabled by their chosen names: ‘They can live with it.’
We’re not into inventing names or odd names or changing traditional spellings of names or things because it just wouldn’t sit right with us.… So we wanted a traditional name and we also looked at something that’s going to fit them when they’re a child but is also going to fit them when they’re 90. We didn’t like the idea of – I can’t even think of something but you know, one of those wacky names that are very cute on a 3-year-old but you can’t imagine …
Being an older man?
… or a name that labelled you as someone who worked in the checkout at Coles as opposed to somebody to be taken seriously. You wanted a name that the person could live with for their life. So we ended up with very conservative names but that’s okay. (Elizabeth, married, interview 19)
Elizabeth also had a clear view that fashionable names such as Poppy or Dakota would be detrimental to a child’s future and reflect badly on the parents for making such poor choices.
You can’t see your child sitting on the bench at the High Court of Australia being called Poppy or something…. There are some outrageously ridiculous names. My daughter has a friend called Dakota which, to me, that jumps up and screams, ‘I was born in the late ’90s, my mother didn’t have an imagination or my mother didn’t think forward. (Elizabeth, married, interview 19)
Brigid views ‘creative spelling’ as problematic, on the one hand ridiculous as in a popular Australian comedy skit and on the other hand as an indicator of a dysfunctional family:
Tell me about creative spelling, why is that not such a great idea?
Well I think basically because it just gets – socially it just gets – or in the current culture it just gets lampooned, it gets laughed at. I mean the classic example is the Kath and Kim skit where she’s named her daughter and it’s got 14 letters and with a triple P. That’s obviously taking it to quite an extreme and – again I’m going to sound dreadful but it conveys to me that – well I’ll give you an example. My partner used to work for DHS and she – there was a thing around the office that was the more time the parents had to think about the name, the more creative the spelling got. A lot of the clients’ children had names that you sort of would look at and thought well why is it spelt like that? It just seemed to be this element of society that did that. That’s not where we come from and that’s not something I wanted to inflict on a child. (Brigid, same-sex relationship, interview 28)
Kath and Kim, the well-known Australian comedy show, lampoons the lives of outer-suburban, low socio-economic status Australians. In one episode Kim chooses to call her baby daughter ‘Epponnee-Raelene Kathleen Darlene Charlene Craig’. In the show her name is frequently shortened to ‘Eps’, ‘Baby Eps’, Epponnee or Epponnee-Rae (Wikipedia, 2015). A few of our participants mentioned Epponnee as an example of a ‘ridiculous’ name. The implication is that as a result of the parents making an aesthetically incompetent choice of name (Mallman, 2015; Pini and Previte, 2013; Skeggs, 1997), the child is likely to be ridiculed or pathologised.
In summary, social distinction through naming echoes the micro-processes of class distinction identified by Bourdieu (1984, 1998) and developed in the UK context by authors such as Skeggs (1997) and Lawler (2005), and in Australia by Pini and Previte (2013) and Mallman (2015). Many of the middle-class parents in our research mobilised names as symbolic capital to position their children in professional jobs and mark them out as people to be ‘taken seriously’. They distinguished these names from ‘bogan’ names, which operate as negative symbolic capital and were derided as aesthetically incompetent and in their view, likely to lead to negative outcomes for children.
Naming and gender
Names were also used to symbolise imagined future performances of gender in combination with classed identities. In line with the literature on choosing children’s names, there was perceived to be a greater variety of names for girls than boys. An overt emphasis on choosing ‘strong’ names for boys and softer ‘feminine’ names for girls was expressed by many of the participants. There seemed to be more at stake in naming boys and many parents feared that their sons would be teased or bullied if unusual names were chosen.
A common view was that masculine identity symbolised by a first name is more strongly policed and enforced than feminine identity (Connell, 2005). As Megan explains:
It seems to be a lot less society pressure on girls’ names. You can have unusual names, unusual spellings and things like that, and people will just write it off as ‘yes, it’s a nice princessy name’ and not give you any grief about it. But if you gave a boy an unusual name, he is often the subject of a lot of teasing. I know there are some unusual names that have come up around some of my feminist friends. Old Norse gods’ names and things like that. I really feel that boys cop a lot more bullying and teasing over names than girls do. (Megan, not living with partner, interview 16)
Jasmine and her partner ‘were drawn to’ gender-neutral names but feared that a feminine-sounding name such as Sasha would have negative consequences for their son. This fear was amplified by their daughters’ opinions about naming their baby brother:
The girls were so adamant that it was a girl’s name even though it’s actually a boy’s name that, as they say, has gone to the girls. So I did kind of have that thing in the back of my head where it was like I don’t want to disadvantage him in some ways. I don’t want him to feel like he’s got this girly name. (Jasmine, married, interview 26)
The notion that this boy’s name had transitioned into a girl’s name was enough to make Jasmine change her mind, even though she liked the idea of him being able to ‘play with his own gender identity’. Similarly, Abi also liked gender-neutral names and would have preferred one herself as a child because she was a ‘tom-boy growing up’. However, she changed her mind when naming her children for the purpose of social ease: ‘It just made it clearer.’
By contrast, Monica found it harder to find names for girls because of her feminist principles and created a name that could be used for a boy or girl. This was unusual in our sample and is unusual in the wider Australian population (McCrindle Research, 2015; Pilcher, 2015).
I think it’s much harder to name a girl.
Why’s that?
I suppose because I come at things from a feminist viewpoint and I feel that a lot of girls’ names – the kind of qualities that go with girls’ names – are not as strong as with boys. They’re quite often a little infantalising in my view.… So we wanted a name that didn’t very strongly belong to one sex over the other. (Monica, married, interview 21)
Overall, there was a perception of more options, fewer constraints and fewer consequences for choosing unusual, decorative or fashionable names for girls. As Shelly says: ‘I think you can be more creative with girls’ names than you can be with boys’.’
Just as a ‘feminine’-sounding name could be a disadvantage to a boy, an overly feminine infant’s name was perceived as limiting the future career opportunities of girls. As Cameron said:
We wanted to make sure that it was a name that suited her as a little girl – a small child – but also a name that wouldn’t be too out of place in a boardroom, assuming that she was going to go on to do great things with her life. (Cameron, heterosexual cohabiting, interview 5)
Notably, names chosen by many parents in same-sex relationships appear to endorse highly traditional gendered norms with an emphasis on ‘strong’ ‘masculine’ names for boys and aesthetic, distinctive or ‘beautiful’ names for girls. As Adam and Sarah explained:
There’s a multitude of boys’ names but for some reason, and I don’t know why it is, people choose within a narrow band. So I think the fact that they choose within a narrow band gives us a relatively small field to play with. I think they do that with boys because they think that boys are bullies, so therefore if a boy has a name that sticks out, he’ll be bullied, I think, whereas girls are probably more accepting. If a girl has a name that stands out, it won’t necessarily lead to her being bullied. (Adam, same-sex relationship, interview 41) I remember [my son] asking me once, why did I call him [name]? I told him the reasons were because it was a name that I thought was really strong and a masculine name and a name wouldn’t be easy to rhyme with anything nasty. He was happy with that response. (Sarah, same-sex relationship, interview 20)
Following gendered conventions regarding names was linked to the notion of avoiding teasing or bullying by most of the same-sex parents we interviewed. Even before their children were born, effort was made to avoid discrimination and bullying in the playground in the future. Parents were conscious that their families ‘stand out’ and that this may well cause discrimination for their children. For Natalie, choosing an unusual first name might create a double burden of discrimination for her daughter.
I don’t want to give other kids even more of a reason to tease her and I feel that given her family relationship – family structure and the fact that she’s got two mums, it’s a concern of ours already. Not a huge concern, but it’s in the back of my mind that she’s going to have to be pretty resilient and tough to deal with that … we didn’t want to give them any more fuel for a potential fire. (Natalie, same-sex relationship, interview 30)
Middle-class individualisation and choosing names
An increasing diversity of first names chosen for children can be interpreted in several ways. On the one hand greater freedom to choose and create names in contemporary times is an example of individualisation (Finch, 2008). Yet we suggest the pressures of class distinction, particularly the middle class seeking to distinguish itself from the ‘mass’ is also evident in our data (Bourdieu, 1984; Lawler, 2005). Some parents viewed a common or popular name as a burden in itself, and sought to avoid it at all costs:
I deliberately didn’t choose anything that was in the top 10 most common names because I grew up with an extremely common name and it’s still causing me problems. I don’t want to choose something completely out there and spelt in a stupid way but I would like to have a situation where my children don’t have the same name as five other people in their class. (Naomi, married, interview 3)
Despite this keenness to avoid being common, the pros and cons of distinctive names were considered deeply by all parents who chose them. Some participants in our research looked more at the aesthetic qualities of names and their links with literature, art or other cultures. Drawing on Pini and Previte (2013), there is a classed relation to the aesthetic visible here. A creative name done well was also perceived to reflect well on the parents. As Jasmine said: ‘I guess we do live in an age where a little bit the distinctiveness is kind of a value that we think is important.’ Aesthetic considerations were paramount for Jasmine and her partner, also indicating there is still a certain cachet surrounding French names, particularly for girls:
Well, our main kind of requirement was how it sounds. So sort of the poetics of the name and we did care about meaning as well, but ‘F’, when we first saw the name in a name book … we liked that it was really immediately a recognisable name. It wasn’t a made-up name, it had a real resonance to it, but it was very unusual and neither of us had ever come across it before. I guess we both liked the aesthetic of it being French as well. (Jasmine, married, interview 26)
Lesbian couple Fran and Natalie created new names for their children and saw this process as thoughtful and creative, associated with building new family traditions. They had also created a new surname for their family to distinguish themselves from their estranged families of origin. However, they were at pains to extricate themselves from an association with ‘bogans’, indicating awareness of the strong class associations at stake in rejecting conventional names. They did this through situating their creativity as continuous with rather than a break from tradition:
It never felt to me like we were being really kind of boganish about making up our own names and kind of rejecting a tradition. It actually felt a bit like we were respecting tradition. We were creating a name that meant that we were able to continue some traditions from our families. (Fran, same-sex relationship, interview 23)
The implication here is that it is not the creation of a name that is the problem with ‘bogan’ name choices but a lack of aesthetic judgement about how to do it well. Extending Lawler’s (2005: 443) argument, bogans do not have the authority to make their judgements stick. Fran is perhaps displaying anxiety here that their judgements about the names created for their children may not stick. This tension between individuality and avoidance of stigma was present for both heterosexual and same-sex parents in our study, but was expressed more often by same-sex parents who suggested a well-chosen name could provide the symbolic capital to overcome future homophobic discrimination.
Natalie summed up the excruciating complexity of trying to secure middle-class symbolic capital for her child.
We both wanted a fairly traditional name that was a little bit unique but without being really out there. We wanted it to be an elegant, nice, slightly unusual but not a name that would get her sort of teased and ridiculed through primary school with a weird spelling or strange pronunciation or something like that. So that was important to us, that it was an easy passage for her. (Natalie, same-sex relationship, interview 30)
As Pini and Previte (2013) note in their discussion of the bogan stereotype, for our well-educated sample of parents, same-sex attracted and heterosexuals alike, ‘what is at stake in terms of status is not necessarily which cultural practice one undertakes, but how one undertakes it’ (2013: 266).
Conclusion
Our exploration of the values, aspirations and experiences of parents naming their children has provided insight into contemporary processes of social distinction in Australia and the intersections between class and gender distinction in particular. The apparent individualisation of naming operates alongside and in tension with naming following social convention and asserting middle-class social location and distinction through names (Gilding, 2010). Systems of distinction are constantly evolving but they continue to underpin and reproduce inequalities and have an impact on opportunities and everyday life (Gillies, 2005). For the predominantly middle-class parents in our study, a first name acted as symbolic capital and there was a sense that names could have a material effect on the life chances of their offspring. Names were perceived to map out future life trajectories through their symbolic association with particular professions or, conversely, with low-grade occupations. Many of the middle-class parents in our study chose names for their children that would operate as positive symbolic capital; they would ‘be distinctive’ but ‘not stand out too much’. By contrast, names perceived to carry negative symbolic capital were lower-class or ‘bogan’ names, which were mocked, ridiculed and pathologised (Mallman, 2015; Pini and Previte, 2013; Pini et al., 2012; Skeggs, 1997). We found that class and gender intersect in interesting ways: a distinctive name could be useful for helping a child stand out as exceptional and thus as positive symbolic capital but a name perceived to be too different could operate as negative social capital and be stigmatising and burdensome, particularly for boys.
The strong gendering of names by our Australian sample continues, despite the gains of second-wave feminism. Masculine names are confined to a narrow band of ‘strong’ choices and deviation is apparently punished with teasing in the school-yard. Innovation in spelling is allowed for girls, as are longer, decorative names though highly educated mothers strove to position their daughters, as well as sons, as future professionals through appropriate naming choices. There is a sense that masculinity is more tightly bounded and policed in first naming than femininity (Connell, 2005). Girls’ names allow for a greater scope of expression, though these intersect with class as middle-class parents prepare to socialise ‘can-do girls’ (Harris, 2004) of the future with names that are distinctive but also serious enough to symbolise and prepare for future career success.
Same-sex parents navigate the same tensions as heterosexual parents between gender and class, individualisation and conformity, but with an additional consideration of potential homophobic school-yard bullying about family structure as well as first names. Several participants hoped their strategy of a well-chosen middle-class name would overcome such future discrimination. Our data therefore illustrates how symbolic boundaries between social classes, genders and sexualities are established and policed through naming. Poor name choices, our participants suggest through demonstrations of symbolic violence, may lead to poor outcomes for the children and future adults having those names. As our study is a small-scale qualitative one our research findings are somewhat limited in their generalisability, yet our research shows that the purported Australian ethic of easy-going egalitarianism is not on display when middle-class parents reflect on the names ‘other’ Australian parents give their children.
Footnotes
Funding
This research was supported by a Swinburne University Research Development Grant, with additional funding provided by the School of Social Sciences, Monash University.