Southern nameology at your fingertips.
Anne. William. Robert. Catherine. They’ll always have a timeless feel, but one fascinating phenomenon I’ve been observing in recent years is the influence of Southern American naming trends creeping into the national trends of American baby names.
After many years living in Bavaria, the southern part of Germany, I’d like to think that perhaps I have acquired some honorary Southern credentials. Bavaria has had a lengthy history of local fascination with the American South, and there’s been some back and forth over the years. As a former Californian, I do realize that this point could be contentious, so I’ll dive right into my source of true fascination with Virginia and its neighboring states: first names.
Confession: I’m a lifelong name nerd. There are many of us out there. We spend our childhoods making up fake rosters for schools and day camps, scribbling lists of future baby names in the margins of our high school notebooks, and browsing the Social Security name database as an adult to see trends and popularity statistics. Then, if we have kids, they get saddled with the culmination of our lifelong fruits of labor (in my case, my three sons, poor things, have been saddled with two middle names each).
Alternatively, if name nerds don’t have kids, the fur babies get the monikers. Freckles and Duke have been summarily replaced with names like Cooper and Cassidy. In the case of having both human children and household pets, you’ll have the royal flush of Name Nerdery at your fingertips.
The first and most obvious of this category is surnames as first names. In Virginia, and in many other Southern regions, this has been a common practice dating back centuries. Historically and even today, families gave their sons (and occasionally daughters) what would generally be seen as last names: Clark, Baylor, Parker, Alden, Brooks.
It’s hard to completely pinpoint as to why this was somewhat more confined to the South. One theory is that families were trying to emulate a name of aristocracy and wealth rooted in England, where many of the initial European settlers of Virginia were immigrating from. As the years rolled by, the phenomenon gradually extended to girls as well in recent decades, with names like Avery, Kinsley, Kennedy, and Hadley climbing the charts.
But last names first isn’t the only naming trend that feels deeply Southern. Double names can also be traced to being a Southern phenomenon, with its origins rooted in the blue bloods of Europe. When Charles James Stuart became King Charles I in 1625, the idea of giving children multiple names became all the rage in 17th and 18th century England. British aristocrats caught on, sometimes giving their offspring upwards of 10 names just to make their status in society crystal clear.
Though the 10-name phenomenon never got traction on this side of the pond, the habit of bestowing children with double-barreled names did. As migratory patterns ruled and the Scottish, Irish, and French made their way across the Atlantic, they first settled in the South, bringing with them not just the last-name-first phenomenon, but the double name tradition, too. And as they forged new identities in an untamed land, it made sense to hang on to things that felt familiar—naming traditions being one of them. Since then, as sure as ham biscuits and fried chicken are the signs of a Southerner, so are double names. Shouting for Mary to come to dinner might lead to five girls running your way, but only one child will answer to Mary Grace.
Southern geography also inspires naming. With their fiercely proud history, Southerners are prone to give a big nod to the places that have defined its culture. You may not hear Philadelphia or Peoria or Oakland being tossed about as prime candidates in a hospital nursery, let alone Manassas or Bull Run, but you do hear certain Southern locales—Austin, Georgia, Jackson, Savannah, and Dallas—in elementary school rooms nationwide. Historical figures from the South also loom large in naming nomenclature, including Braxton, Armistead, Tyler, Harrison, and Carter.
Traditions rule the South in ways large and small. Known for their epic hospitality, approachability, and charm, Southerners love good manners, like thank-you notes and a firm handshake. They’re deeply attached to Southern cuisine—think grits, cornbread, barbecue, sweet tea, and pecan pie. They’ve even created “y’all,” their very own quintessentially Southern pronoun. And I’ve come to understand that these traditions, be they quirky or mainstream, double names or last names first, hold a powerful sway.
