- Feb 5, 2002
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Jews are already inherently unique. We don’t need to prove it by naming our kids Cinnamon, Aqua, or Afternoon.
A clip from the second season of the Netflix series Nobody Wants This recently made the rounds in the parent-verse. In it, interfaith couple Joanne and Noah (Kristen Bell and Adam Brody) attend a baby-naming party and submit to only the most L.A. experience: pretending you didn’t just hear something completely, utterly, and offensively dumb.
Joanne asks the Jewish mom, played by a peppy Leighton Meester, an innocent enough question: “What’s [your daughter’s] name?”
“Afternoon,” replies the mom.
“That’s not a,” starts Joanne, before catching herself mid-snicker. She quickly reverts course: “That is … my favorite time of day.”
I know this routine all too well, the one in which we swallow our tongues, nod, and reflexively exclaim “beautiful!” while simultaneously relishing new fodder for group texts. “You won’t believe the name I just heard” has grown all the more frequent and yet all the more competitive: No longer does Republic, Churchill (for a girl), or even Quinoa raise an eyebrow. I recently overheard Farro (or Pharaoh—unclear!) at the playground, and my group chat pals were unimpressed: “I dunno, I could see a President Farro/Pharaoh.”
It used to be that faddish progeny trends were more prevalent within our gentile neighbors, but not us–we who name after our beloved Bubbes and Zaydes and a long lineage of Jewish leaders, Biblical characters, and that one female Israeli prime minister. I come from a generation in which every other Jewish kid was named Talia, Ilana, or Rachel. Now I see those very same peers opting for Coyote, Striker, and Roxstar.
It’s sometimes hard to square away these peculiar pairings—an unorthodox first name with an often Jewish surname. Gravity Cohen? Aqua Levenstein? Cinnamon Goldberg?
Continued below.
