I’ve never been a supporter of the French Civil Code, which limits the names you can give your children. For example, French courts have refused to let parents christen a child “Nutella,” on the grounds that somebody already owns that trademark.
“Prince William” is out because it “would lead to a lifetime of mockery,” and “Mini Cooper”? ‘Nuff said.
This all struck me as carrying the power of the state several metres into the swamp.
Though did you know that in B.C., the Vital Statistics Act entitles the Registrar General to reject a proposed name if it “might reasonably be expected to cause (i) mistake or confusion, or embarrassment to the child or another person, is sought for an improper purpose, or is, on any other ground, objectionable”?
On that basis, Salia Joseph and her partner, who live in North Vancouver, were told they could not name their daughter Alila7, which means “wild raspberry” in the Squamish language.
The problem, apparently, is that government word-processing software would melt down under the strain. Who can say what those computers would make of Joseph’s ancestral name St’ax̱í7aluts?
But of late, I’m starting to reassess my objection to government-imposed restrictions on child-naming practices.
What to make, for instance, of the decision by Elon Musk and his partner to name their son X Æ A-Xii? If that doesn’t lead to a “lifetime of mockery,” what would?
Though if you care, Musk says the proper pronunciation is X Ash A Twelve.
Then we have former Olympic sprinter Usain Bolt naming one of his sons Thunder, as in Thunder Bolt.
Nicole Ritchie, whoever she is, named her son Sparrow. I’m sure he’ll be eternally grateful, assuming he makes it out of grade school alive.
Jason Lee, apparently an actor of sorts, saddled his son with the moniker Pilot Inspektor.
And not-at-all funny comedian Penn Jillette named his daughter Moxie CrimeFighter.
You can begin to see a pattern here. If you’re a celebrity, or at least aspiring to be one, you need an eye-catching label for your offspring.
It’s not about helping your child get a good start in life. It’s about helping you get recognition.
There’s some embarrassing family history here. An aunt of mine from Edinburgh named her sons Ninian and Mungo, after two Scottish patron saints.
You can imagine the hell those kids went through in the school playgrounds of Auld Reekie.
The common strain that runs through this foolishness is the desire of some adults to embody an agenda in the lives of their children. They are to be sent out into the world as poster bearers for their parents’ ambitions.
It would be too strong to call this child abuse, but nourishing and supportive it isn’t. Dunno if the long arm of the law is needed here, but a trip to the woodshed might help.
