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}

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}