Our given name is one of the only things about ourselves that we don’t choose, and studies say lots of us dislike the name we were given at birth — but very few of us ever do anything about it, writes comedian Ben Hurley.

Until I was seven years old, I was Benji. Then, a small, plucky, fictional dog with the same name changed everything.

The runaway success of Disney’s reboot of a ’70s movie franchise about a diminutive yet brave mixed-breed canine who goes on adventures resonated with virtually everyone my age. Suddenly, that wasn’t my name anymore; it was a dog’s. Not a cool dog, either. A tiny, overly cute Disney dog.

Almost overnight, I decided to become Ben. Fortunately, it wasn’t much of a stretch.

Mine isn’t a unique tale.

Imagine it’s the 1980s, and you’re called Kylie, or it’s the ’90s, and your name is Britney, or it’s right now, and you’re living with the name Donald. Introducing yourself to anyone new must be just an exercise in anxiety and patience where you wonder if they are going to say anything or make the same joke you’ve heard a thousand times. You’re worried about how you will react if they do.

God forbid your parents called you Karen. Because of a strange internet phenomenon, you can no longer complain to anyone about anything — ever.

The negative connotations a name can carry are primarily why well-known killers or assassins are often known by three names (Lee Harvey Oswald, Mark David Chapman, James Earl Ray), so the chances of it being another person’s name are lessened. We won’t ruin the life of James Ray, a chartered accountant who never murdered anything other than a tax return.

Whatever reason you might have, most of us dislike our name. Some studies have it as high as 75%. That’s right – three out of four of us hate the handle our parents bestowed upon us. Aside from the previously mentioned pop culture or murderous reasons, why?

According to my own extremely anecdotal research, there are four main reasons:

1. ‘It doesn’t suit me’

For me, this translates as: “It’s not cool anymore.” Again, this is about negative connotations.

You might think your name is a bit old-fashioned, and while you’re still a young, energetic rager who can party with the best of them, no one believes you when you say your name is Trevor.

Seven Sharp reporter Rhiannon McCall has an affionity for the name Rihanna.

Like anything else, trends dictate names, and certain names are dying out. In the UK in 2020, no babies were born named Nigel or Carol.

On the other hand, it might be a bit “too modern”. There might have been no Nigels born in 2020, but there were 189 Kylos. I’ll never know why you’d name your kid after a recent Star Wars villain. I’m just glad I’ve never met a Darth or a Jabba.

2. ‘It’s too common’

I can relate to this.

Three other Bens were in my class at one point during my schooling — this could have been the beginning of me going primarily by my surname.

We all like to think of ourselves as unique snowflakes with attributes as distinct as our fingerprints, so our names should reflect that. However, those pesky things called “trends” rear their head again. And — while your parents thought they had a bright idea to give you the perfect, accessible, yet distinct Christian name, around the same time — other parents had also seen that same movie or read that same book.

3. ‘Everyone gets it wrong’

This can be a symptom of a unique name that reflects your cultural background or because your parents wanted a “one of a kind” model.

The common complaint is that you spend your life teaching people how to pronounce or spell it, which might get a little tedious.

Spare a thought for my TVNZ colleague who has the beautiful indigenous Welsh name of Myrddin, pronounced Muhr-thin.

“I wouldn’t change it for the world, but some days I wish I were called John,” he said.

4. Relationship with parents

Your name is the only thing you don’t choose about your non-physical self. If the person or people who decided it for you aren’t necessarily your favourite people, that can give your name negative associations.

Clinical psychologist Rajna Bogdanovich (great name) said: “Sometimes it’s attached to trauma; your name might be associated with a childhood you’d rather forget.”

Right then. If there’s so much bad feeling about one’s moniker, why not do something about it?

Considering that three-quarters of the population want a new name, relatively few people actually change it. According to the Department of Internal Affairs, only 6000-7000 people changed their names last year.

Many of them were because they now identified as a different gender or they were new New Zealanders and perhaps wanted to anglicise their name to fit in. Very few changed their names because they thought it didn’t suit them or that it was too common.

Changing your name is a reasonably straightforward process. It requires a statutory declaration by a lawyer or justice of the peace and a background check by the DIA. At $170, it is not outrageously expensive.

The legal process

Once again, from my “research”, the top reasons people don’t actually do anything about it are twofold:

Firstly, the legal process might be relatively straightforward but imagine all the other things you’d have to change: Your driver’s license, bank accounts, electoral roll, gym membership, and every bill in your name would have to change.

That’s a storm of adult administration I’d happily avoid, even if my name was Darth Hurley.

And secondly, “What would my parents say?”

In the same way negative connections with your childhood might make you want to change your name, positive associations could make you reluctant.

Your parents gave you that name with the best intentions, and like it or not, it’s what makes you the well-rounded, fully-formed person you are now.

Also, because you didn’t choose it for yourself, you have zero responsibility for what your parents called you. Making that decision yourself could be dangerous because sometimes humans make bad choices.

If a seven-year-old me were allowed to change his name from Benji to something altogether different legally, I’d now be called MacGyver.

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