Wanted: Pinoy Names

By Michael Tan (March 28, 2002)

Foreigners often ask why Filipinos are constantly concocting nicknames, changing them as frequently as we do cell phone covers.

There’s a paradox here. I suspect we keep renaming ourselves because Filipino parents are rather unreflective in the choices of
their children’s legal names, which means some Filipinos end up spending their entire lives trying to shed those names.

Blame it maybe on the Spaniards, who oversimplified things by telling us to name the child after the saint of the day. That probably
worked out for most of the three centuries they were here but when the Americans took over, it became chic to have names like Joe and
Fred so those who had the more traditional names then rechristened. Sometimes, it was fairly easy, such as Jamie becoming Jim. Other
changes were a bit more drastic, like Fidel Ramos became Eddie. I’m sure you can cite other examples of how Procopios and Urbanas
reinvented themselves.

Today, most Filipino parents have abandoned the Catholic liturgical calendar and now name their children after politicians and
showbiz personalities. Again, as the children grow up they may find themselves trying to shed off those names as celebrities fall from favor.

Those named after saints and sinners, oops, I meant politicians and movie stars, are the luckier ones. As I said, Filipino parents can
be whimsical, almost playful in their choices of names. Remember that a Filipino pilot, whose surname was Come (pronounced as two
syllables) and whose parents gave him the name of “Wel” so he could be “Mr. Wel Come”? The name certainly didn’t help when he flew to
the states last year and met American immigration authorities who had received a false tip that he and a friend were terrorists. Wel Come
was, well, not welcome.

I have a friend whose legal name is Jiffy, which he got because he was born “in a hurry, and in a jeepney” as his mother was rushing
to the hospital. He dislikes his name tremendously and prefers J.D. or even plain old Jepoy. Eventually, he’d like to get a more dignified legal
name. (The law allows these name change if you can prove that your given name causes you embarrassment, or attracts ridicule. Be ready,
however, to spend for the court proceedings.)

These strange names aren’t always the parents’ fault. At times, I suspect the practical jokers are the civil registrars, or the hospital
personnel, who ask the parents what name they want to give and write them out as it is pronounced, no matter how odd they may be. If the
parents are Visayan then you get all kinds of mutations on what would otherwise have been stigma-free names. My parent’s mayordoma
wanted to name her child “Judy,” but being ilongga, got “Jodie” instead on the birth certificate. Which isn’t too bad, really. Think of the
wannabee Joels who ended up Jewels.

Younger Filipinos seem to be more serious now about naming their children. One of my readers wrote last week to say she and her
husband were resisting pressures to name their unborn son “Junior” or after one of their relatives. Children, this reader explains, should be their
own persons.

The couple was looking into the possibilities of “Filipino names” and asked me for suggestions. Which was when I realized we don’t
have that many. From what I remember, members of the Philippine Independent Church were the first to challenge the old Spanish “saint of
the day” tradition. Which is why you had names like Magtanggol for males and, for females, Ligaya, Luzviminda (Luzon, Visayas, Mindanao),
Lualhati, Bituin, Diwata, Tala, Amihan.

Notice the gender skewing here, with more Filipino names for females than for males. Some parents do name their sons after Filipino
heroes, for example, Rizal (and Rizalino) and Bonifacio but the range is still limited. During the activist era of the ‘70s, there was anew search
for Filipino names but, reflecting the turbulent times, you ended up with names like Rebo (For Rebolusyon or revolution).

I looked through our folk tales but didn’t find the names too enticing. I do like Alunsina, the goddess who left her male chauvinist husband in
tears, those tears becoming our first rain, but that’s also a female name. Her husband, who I presume became more gender-sensitive later,
was named Tungkung Langit, not too suitable for our times.

Then there are precolonial datu’s names, but I’m not sure people will relish being called Lapu-lapu. Others to consider: Lakandula,
Sikatuna (but that’s also a subdivision name) and Humabon.

We might want to pick up examples from our Asian neighbors. Irwan Hidayana, an anthropologist friend teaching at the University
of Indonesia, sent me some popular names they use. For females, I particularly liked Dewi (goddess), Dian (a little lamp, something
enlightening), Mega (cloud), Sari (essence), Puspa and Sekar (flower), Cinta (pronouncdd Tsinta, love). For males, they have Prana (aura),
Agung (great), Kelana (adventurer), Satria (knight), Teguh (strong, firm), Wahid (number one), Cahya or Cahyo (light).

I think we should bear in mind that the concept of a “Filipino name” is itself elusive. Even in the precolonial period some of the
names already reflected external influences – Rajah Soliman’s name, for example, is Arabic. Ultimately, a name is Filipino-Tagalog, Cebuano,
Ilokano, Maranao, Kankanay, English, Spanish, Javanese – if it captures our spirit, our ethos.