First impressions last: How names can make or break a person?

A name is the first story told about us, often before we’ve spoken a word. It travels ahead of our resume, follows us into classrooms, and echoes through introductions.

And though we may not choose it, we carry it — often long after we’ve outgrown childhood. 

From influencers debuting newborns with double-barreled, stylized names to parents tweaking traditional spellings in search of uniqueness, the baby name game has taken a bold, unconventional turn.

In the Philippines, a country where linguistic creativity and cultural hybridity already gave rise to distinctive names, this shift is both amplified and complicated. But, what begins as a quest for meaning, trendiness, or individuality, doesn’t always land the way parents intend.

For every thoughtfully chosen “Blue Ivy” or “Tau Techno Mechanicus,” there’s a child stumbling over introductions, students hiding behind a more simplified nickname, teachers tripping on how to pronounce, or human resource managers silently making assumptions.

The ripple effects of a name with how it’s perceived, misread, or judged has now extended far beyond birth announcements and Instagram captions.

Unconventional naming, per se, is not strictly a “thing” of the 21st century, with baby names decades ago already being inspired by celestial bodies, weather conditions, fictional characters, and even distinct-sounding words beyond their mother tongue. It, however, may have unlocked new heights since the 2000s, with celebrities hopping in and naming their children “Moxie CrimeFighter,” “Zuma Nesta Rock,” or “North West,” among others. And the rise of more and more names off the beaten path reflects the growing influence of what seems to be gradually becoming a part of mainstream culture.

Talk about surprises, and the name game will always probably have one. While harnessing ideas from a fan-favorite movie or a well-loved destination may no longer be new,  quirk and unpredictability may just have a certain way of reaching at least one mind that’s determined to add a factor of novelty, sentimental value, or both.

During late March, internet personality and entrepreneur Viy Cortez’s maternity shoot post was met by social media clamor as she revealed her daughter’s name: Tokyo Athena — merging the capital city in Japan and the Greek goddess. It may be an easy reference for avid fans that Viy and husband Cong TV had their prenup shoot a year ago in Tokyo, Japan.

Perhaps, the contributions of pop culture, social media trends, as well as the emergence of AI, have become more obvious than before. And the challenge of bringing something new may prove to be one that parents willingly take. Day by day, more parts of the world are being introduced to names that add twists after twists.

Whether in the limelight or somewhere far from the public eye, kids who carry uncommon names have their share of both favorable experiences and struggles.

Even before Viy and Cong welcomed Tokyo Athena, the baby had already drawn massive attention. A handful of comments ridiculed the name, whereas others simply expressed concerns regarding the word combination, with sentiments such as “The name combination just doesn’t roll off the tongue, but you do you.”

On the other hand, encounters with distinctly named individuals outside the realm of show business and content creation also do happen, especially in schools. While a “Maxinne” with a single ‘n,’ an “Ivan” spelled as “Aivan,” and a “Lexie” without an ‘e’ are definitely commonplace, no one ever met a “Xyzcherenathaneralei” Aliño or “Xyz” in short.

He is currently a grade 11 student at the Philippine Science High School-Central Luzon Campus (PSHS-CLC). The name’s breakdown? His father got the first part, “Xyz” from a former student genius, “Cher” from the dictionary, and “Nathan” and “Ralei” from two other individuals — all last three names being linked together by a letter ‘e.’ 

For Xyz, it has already become an ordinary sight to have people intrigued by why his name's so long or how it’s pronounced. He even shared that during competitions, the emcee would take a pause at the glimpse of his name, only to end up saying “Mr. Aliño.” Reminiscing over his kindergarten days, he recalled how he had to check his ID just to be able to write his full name. Despite these obstacles, however, he remains satisfied, even saying, “Masaya naman ako sa name na binigay sa akin; walang sabit sa NBI.”

While some kids may be spared from the bigger and longer battles, only needing to confront challenges tied to their names within the bounds of schools or universities, others are tested by harsh waves that they would have to sail through until their career life. Studies show that unusual names have an impact on how employers view applicants — whether they’re assumed to be less professional or to have an extra sense of creativity.

Although most of the existing research, such as a 2004 study at Harvard University by Bertrand and Mullainathan focusing on the correlation of hiring biases and names that nod to one’s ethnicity, results still reflect that faulty assumptions and uncalled-for stereotypes produce repercussions on job callbacks.

According to Article 7 of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, every child has “the right to a name, from birth.” But that provision carries more than administrative significance. Naming is the earliest social act conferred upon a human being — an invisible architecture around which identity, belonging, and sometimes even opportunity, are constructed. In effect, it’s not just about having a name, but having a name that supports dignity and growth.

In the Philippines, where names often reflect cultural syncretism and linguistic inventiveness, legally protects this right through Republic Act No. 9048, allowing corrections to names that are erroneous or can cause confusion. But legal remedies come long after the social and psychological impacts of a poorly chosen name may have taken root. What’s at stake is the fine balance between a parent’s creative freedom and the child’s right to be equipped — not encumbered — by the name they’re given.

It begs a difficult, culturally loaded question: When does personal expression cross into recklessness? While parents often name with affection or aspiration, names that lean too far into stylized spellings or obscure references can become lifelong obstacles. Children may endure mockery, discrimination, or the forced adoption of nicknames to assimilate socially. The very act meant to declare individuality may paradoxically pressure them into erasing it later on.

Laws can mandate the right to a name. But the larger moral imperative — ensuring that name protects a child's dignity, not undermines it — remains a collective responsibility. As society increasingly celebrates distinctiveness, it must also reckon with its own complicity in punishing difference.

Psychological studies have long underscored the connection between names and self-perception. Children with “unusual” or non-mainstream names are more likely to be singled out in classrooms, their names mispronounced, giggled at, or turned into punchlines. Over time, these interactions can influence self-esteem, identity formation, and even academic or social engagement. The damage isn’t always overt — it’s the quiet recalibrations children make: shortening names, adopting nicknames, or avoiding correction, simply to ease friction.

Yet, names are also cultural vessels. In many Indigenous Filipino communities, names are chosen with reverence — rooted in nature, ancestors, or spiritual significance. Such naming traditions preserve heritage and resist erasure in a post-colonial, globalized society. To bear a name like Dalisay or Araw is to carry a lineage, an act of quiet defiance against homogenization.

But the globalized world isn’t always kind to names it deems “difficult.” Research shows that job applicants with non-Anglicized names are less likely to receive callbacks, regardless of qualifications. In a society where names can evoke bias before merit is considered, those with non-traditional names often bear a double burden: to prove themselves, and to defend the name they didn’t choose.

Names, then, are not neutral. They shape the way we’re seen and how we see ourselves. And while it’s tempting to treat baby naming as an aesthetic exercise or a branding choice, what’s really at stake is identity, dignity, and the freedom to be fully known.

A name is a gift, but also a responsibility.

Parents may delight in the artistry of crafting something original, but the lived reality of that name belongs to someone else. It is to the child who must one day carry it into a complex and often unforgiving world. The name on their ID or diploma might be poetic, playful or prophetic, but it must also be livable.

The right to a name, as enshrined in international and local law, is not just a legal formality, it is a matter of dignity. As we continue to celebrate individuality and cultural expression, we must also ask harder questions: are we naming children for their futures or our aesthetics?

As in this answer, perhaps, is the first act of love that we give them. And perhaps the most lasting act of love is not just a giving name that stands out, but one that stands strong.