el apodo (m): Nombre que suele darse a una persona, en sustitución del propio, normalmente tomado de sus peculiaridades físicas o de alguna otra circunstancia

Although certainly not unique to the Latino culture, los apodos, or nicknames, are ubiquitous in Spanish-speaking countries whether it be on the playground, within families, or of course, in professional sports. These clever and silly names are an inherent part of Latino culture, yet usually misunderstood by outsiders and miscategorized as offensive.

As the definition states, los apodos are oftentimes taken from a particular physical characteristic. The first time I heard someone being called “Gorda,” I was completely taken aback and my eyes shifted around the conversation, expecting an awkward silence from the offended party. Instead we carried on talking, and I filed away my questions for later.

In Spain, I asked my host-mom why they called her “Gorda,” when she was actually very slim. “Oh, están bromeando.. me lo dicen con cariño,” and she brushed it off. I wasn’t convinced and silently vowed that no one would ever call me gorda no matter how much “love” was added. But was she really OK with the name?

I later lived in Ecuador and lived with a family where nicknames abounded. The son-in-law was “el Chinito,” a daughter was “la Negri,” and I was “la gringuita.” Again, coming from the U.S., the names sounded harsh. Yet for the six months I lived with the family, I never learned their real names because literally every single person called them by their apodos, and I learned to follow suit.

Finally I met my husband, and he explained the nickname phenomena to me:

“We like to laugh at ourselves, and don’t get offended easily. But also, los apodos are a gesture to show inclusiveness into a social group. They become a part of the group’s identity and cohesiveness, since the type of apodo varies based on the social group. For example, on my swim team I was “cebrita” (little zebra) because of a black and white Speedo I had, but with a different group of friends I was “flaco.”

A fellow student at university always wore a sweater to school, so he was known as “Suéteres” (and still is to this day). Another guy liked to eat Cheetos, and voilà: he instantly became “Cheetos” from that day forward. “Jarocho” was the student from Veracruz, and “Topeka” was a blonde guy from Quito, who looked like a gringo from Topeka, Kansas, but spoke not a word of English. An engineer (ingeniero) becomes “Inge,” a licenciado becomes “lic,” a teacher “el profe.”

One of the most famous apodos right now is the soccer player from Chivas and now Manchester United, “El Chicharito.” His dad — also a famous soccer player — had green eyes, and earned the name “El Chícharo” (pea). Once his little son began to play, they transferred his father’s nickname to him.

After understanding their use, I’m a little envious that I don’t have a cool nickname! I’ve been trying to get my husband to come up with one (besides “gorda” because I still can’t get past it ) — at least if not for me, then for my kiddos.

What are the creative nicknames in your family? I love hearing los apodos, and the history and context behind them — share your favorites in the comments!

{Image by  MrGuilt}

Next week I will be 33 weeks pregnant with our second child, and my husband and I are still deciding on a name. With our first, we agreed early on that we wanted a Spanish first name that was easy to pronounce in English (more importantly one that my husband felt comfortable with).

It was important to me that he stay connected with his Chilean side and I wanted to start with his name. Oddly enough, it was my American husband who found the name Matías — he liked it because it worked in several languages. What we didn’t realize was just how many languages it would work in. When we lived in the UK (where our son was born) we had people ask if we were Greek, German, Polish or Finnish. Talk about a universal name! We are well aware that we will live in the U.S., but like many bicultural and bilingual families, we feel names are an important part of your identity and help keep you connected to your roots.

Now we are having our second child, a girl, and we just cannot decide on a name. It’s been more difficult than the first time and we’ve also learned to keep our ideas to ourselves, because everyone seems to have an opinion on this topic — mostly from my familia. No surprise there! It’s either too old fashioned, or too edgy or too foreign. Yes, these are the types of comments we get. That’s why I’ve had to keep the names to myself despite being asked every chance they get.

Read: What’s in a Name? So many Choices, Only One Winner

What we do know is that  we would like a name that works well both in English and Spanish, but one that won’t be butchered in English and easy for my husband and his parents to pronounce. I know what it is like to have an unpronounceable name or one that gets cut in half — no one wants a lifetime of that.

I keep repeating names to myself, saying them out loud to see how it would sound when calling my daughter and what feeling they give me. Another factor to consider is the shortening of names; for instance, my husband likes Victoria and Magdalena, but I am not a fan of Vicki or Magda. Of course, we won’t call them that, but others may and we don’t want that. Nope, not having it!

So I ask you readers, how did you decide on your children’s names and what factors did you take into consideration? Was having a name connected to your roots imminent in the decision-making process? As for us, we are still deciding, but with the baby due in February, we should have one soon!

{photo by Gato Azul}

I’ve had baby names on the mind lately, and at this late stage of my pregnancy it’s kind of hard not to. Every sharp kick, jab and foretelling Braxton Hicks contraction is a reminder to stop procrastinating and decide on something, anything, before delivery day.

For my first pregnancy four years ago, it was different, as most first pregnancies tend to be. I was so excited that I basically peed on a stick and ran to a bookstore to purchase a baby name book and started scouring baby name websites immediately in search of a name I would fall in love with. But if you’ve ever looked at one of these books or been on any of these websites, you’ll see that the possibilities are seriously endless. In much the same way I feel when I enter a multi-story department store, I was totally overwhelmed by all the categories, meanings, spelling variations, etc. etc. So many choices, too many choices, and you get to pick just one (well, two, if you use a middle name). One name that will be with your child FOREVER. So I took a breath and a step back and asked myself: Well, what do you want in a name?

Read: In The Name… of Culture?

So I started sorting things out in my head: Do I go with trendy, traditional, classic, cool, strong, sweet or unique? Should it be international, American as apple pie, or a name in Spanish picked off the family tree? Does it have to flow with our last name? How is it going to come off once he or she becomes an adult? Are there any weird nicknames that could come out of it? And importantly, if it’s English-sounding, how will the abuelos and my husband’s family in Central America pronounce or butcher it?

With the first one, once my husband and I found out we were having a girl, it made one part of our baby naming job easier. Her middle name would be the same as mine, Leonor, which is also my mother and grandmother’s name. Now that I’m an adult, I absolutely cherish this name, but truth be told, as a kid, I despised this name. It felt so old-fashioned. But that’s exactly why I love the name now, and the fact that it was passed on to me makes me feel more connected to my family and my roots. I think of my great-grandparents, and what they must have been thinking when they gave this name to my grandmother. Of course, it’s also kind of cool that in recent years, la Infanta Leonor of Spain brought the name back in vogue, and other variations of the name have become a popular choice in naming the newest little princesas of Europe.

After we settled on Leonor for a middle name, picking the all-important first name wasn’t too difficult. We wanted something that flowed nicely into the last name, so we soon settled on Kalila Leonor. Kalila is Arabic in origin. We liked the way it sounded, plus, it has a wonderful meaning: beloved. And yes, the abuelos have no trouble pronouncing it.

In the end, we went down a route that is fairly telling of our hybrid, bicultural and bilingual American-Latino lives. We were definitely very American in giving our daughter an uncommon first name, something that would distinguish her from the herd. But we are also very proud of our culture and heritage and wanted a name that reflected that. And since I already had a family name that had been passed on to me it was easy to pass along the torch.

We’ll probably go down the same route of choosing a not-so-common first name and family middle name for this new baby girl. I do have a short list, and that’s a good thing because we have a short amount of time to decide. As I write, I’m feeling those practice contractions, yikes!

How did you chose your children’s names? Did your heritage play a part in the decision?

{Photo courtesy of Cynthia Leonor Garza}

I was in the kitchen setting the table for dinner with a great friend of ours, when I heard Mari in the other room saying, “No, it’s Mah-ree-SOL. Mah-ree-SOL. It’s Mah-ree-SOL, Nathan.”  I ran in to see if I was hearing correctly; I was–she was correcting our friend’s pronunciation.

I know this might seem rude to some people, but not to me.  You see, a few weeks back, Marisol had started talking to me about the way that people pronounce her name.  “So-and-so calls me MAW-re-sul,” she would say, parroting the Anglicized pronunciation of her name.  “What IS your name, baby?” I’d ask. “Mah-ree-SOL, mama,” she’d reply.  We’d talk about how all the different people in her life said her name, and even play around with some of her cousin’s names.  She had picked up on the fact that there were two ways to pronounce many of them and she also had picked up on which way each of her cousins preferred to be called.

We have been role-playing the correction she gave our friend tonight for a while. Before we’d go visit one of our beloved “mispronouncers,” she’d bring it up again. “K–calls me MAW-re-sul…” So I’d practice with her and encourage her to teach her friends how to say her name.

Marisol is a gentle soul and doesn’t generally get assertive with people unless she knows them real well. So, without fail, she wouldn’t give the correction, even though she would talk about it with me afterward. I figured this was just the beginning of us getting used to the unintended pronunciation of her name, especially since neither her father nor I correct family members who mispronounce her name.  It feels rude sometimes to do so, and we let it go.  How could I expect her to be more brave than we are, to insist on the respect of being called by her rightful name when she is not even three years old?

But she is and she did!  I was so so proud of her. Like many other countless occasions, she is teaching me how to parent, how to stand up, how to do the right thing, even when it’s hard.  I WILL ask people to say her name correctly. Now I see how awful it was that I let it slide before.

In my own life, there are STILL some acquaintances who either mispronounce my name, or just think it is Elise, who I don’t correct because I rarely see them! ¡Qué vergüenza!!  I’m embarrassed to admit this, since I am so outspoken in so many ways…but this has always been a thing for me. Maybe it goes back to grade school when I didn’t like my name…whatever it is, my daughter just taught me how to be grownup about it!

I love that she had the audacity and PRIDE to ask her friend to say her name the way she preferred. I always ask my students to correct me if I am mispronouncing their names–”it’s your name,” I say, “and it’s only right that I call you the way you prefer to be called.”  I want them to feel respected by me. I want my daughter to feel that too. Even more, I want her to respect herself enough to request that courtesy.

I only hope this is something she won’t ever lose. I hope that she doesn’t give in to all the well-meaning friends on the playground, or teachers, or anybody who doesn’t know to take care in saying her name.  I want her to be this proud her whole life. I promise to keep learning from her.

SB mamas and papas–how do you handle it when your child’s name is mispronounced? Do you think it’s important to insist that other make the effort to get it right?

Photo by JAG Photography

I recently went through my running list of possible names for our second child – to be born in September – with my husband. I’m sad to report it didn’t go very well – although I was not surprised. He didn’t really like most of them. So we’re kind of back to to square one.

For some – especially within the Latino population, naming their child might not be a very difficult task for they have no problem choosing the name of someone in the family, their father or mother, or another relative whom they want to honor or as a kind of tradition passed on from generation to generation. Like my husband, for example. He carries his father’s name as so does his son from his first marriage. I respect this decision, but I don’t agree with it. Even though I absolutely L-O-V-E my name (I’m not named after anybody and no one else in my family has my name), I just can’t fathom having two Roxanas in the house. Not only is it confusing, but I feel like it kind of robs the new member of the family a bit of their own identity.

Then, there’s the matter of how much I want the name to reflect our culture or how ethnic the name should be. I remember when I was pregnant with Vanessa and while I was visiting my family in Perú, my cousin showed me her little book of baby names and as I was going through it, I found several different ones in Quechua – the language spoken by the indigenous people of my country and other South American countries. Knowing it would annoy my mother – who prefers more Spaniard names – I chose one and I couldn’t contain my laughter when I announced it: URPI, which means dove in Quechua! ¿Qué cosa? asked my mother in desbelief. ¡Estás loca!

I was just kidding, of course, but it got me thinking about the other dilemma I have in choosing a name for my child. Although I know I’d like to find a a name that reflects our heritage – a Latino name – more than anything else it has to be one that can be easily pronounced by English-speaking people. In other words, I would hate to choose the kind of name that would be so difficult for English-only speakers that it would end up being butchered.

Coincidentally, at one of my recent prenatal appointments, I met an American doctor married to a Peruvian man from Cuzco who had named her daughter Quilla, Quechua for Moon. I immediately asked her if others here in the States were able to pronounce her name and she laughed knowingly.

As I was dwelling on my possible list of names recently, I came across the top 10 Hispanic names of the last five years according to the Social Security Administration. Some didn’t surprise me, others I hadn’t even thought about.

Check out the names for niñas:

1. María (my mom, her sisters and my sister’s middle names)
2. Sofía (my brother’s daughter’s name)
3. Isabel (my aunt’s and sister-in-law’s daughter’s name)
4. Adriana
5. Daniela
6 .Valeria
7. Ángela
8. Mariana
9. Juliana
10. Liliana

I like Daniela, Valeria and Ángela (they pretty much sound the same both in English and Spanish), but I truly like Juliana. My husband doesn’t like any of them. And, what’s worse, everyone in my family hates Juliana because it reminds them of some song that goes something like: “Juliana qué mala eres, qué mala eres Juliana.” Go figure.

Here are the top ten names for niños:

1. José
2. Ángel
3. Juan
4. Diego
5. Carlos
6. Jesús
7. Xavier
8. Antonio
9. Miguel
10. Alejandro

I was cracking up when I saw this list. The first two names, José Angel, are my husband’s and his father’s names. I like Diego, but it kind of bothers me that it is now so easily associated with Nickelodeon’s Dora the explorer. I like Miguel – my father’s name – but I know it’ll be shortened to Mike or mispronounced. The u is silent (that’s the best way I can explain it), but most English-only speakers don’t understand that, so they actually pronounce it. This was a non-issue in Miami, but now that we live in Denver, things are totally different. A lot of people don’t really care if their name is mispronounced, but then, why even have a name. This is one of my pet peeves. What can I say?

In case you’re wondering what some of the rejected names were, here’s a sample: Katalina, Stella and Carolina for a girl and Ignacio, Javier and Gianmarco for a boy. Good thing I wasn’t really in love with any of them, but the best part is that we will actually find out later on today what we’re having in September. So choosing should get just a tiny bit easier! I’ll keep you posted…