Beyond Bill and Jill: Celebrating Ethnic Names in BIPOC Stories
I've noticed a growing desire to hear more BIPOC stories, and I've written about it here before. However, one thing people might not understand is that if authors write about specific cultures unfamiliar to others, they might inadvertently make insensitive remarks.
For example, one of my books is a Korean-themed psychological thriller. It's a standalone, not part of the recently acquired three-book series. Growing up, I called my aunt 'Imo,' which might sound unusual to some, but 'Imo' (pronounced E-E-MOE) means 'Aunt' in Korean. I intentionally included this name in my book to reflect authentic cultural details.
Some people might comment on that name because it sounds funny or unnatural to American ears. But that's because it's not their culture. When we're talking about BIPOC characters in Sci-Fi or Fantasy, using unusual names is perfectly fine. However, when we feature underrepresented and marginalized communities in real-life scenarios, it is crucial to approach naming conventions with sensitivity and respect for their cultural authenticity. We must allow people to use culturally specific names without shaming them or expecting every name to conform to familiar standards like 'Bill' or 'Jill.'
This might seem like common sense, but you'd be surprised how many people might poke fun at a name or post something on social media criticizing an author for using a naming convention associated with the culture in their book. They don't intend to mock, but that's how it comes across.
My first name is Sonyo with an 'O' at the end, not 'Sonya.' It is not Spanish. It's a Korean name because I'm half-Korean. As a biracial author, I'm also half-Puerto Rican. Many people mistakenly think I'm male when they don't see me and only see my name on paper, as the 'O' at the end sounds masculine.
If we want more BIPOC characters, then we should be willing to accept their unique BIPOC names that aren't whitewashed or watered down to sound non-BIPOC.
For example, one of my books is a Korean-themed psychological thriller. It's a standalone, not part of the recently acquired three-book series. Growing up, I called my aunt 'Imo,' which might sound unusual to some, but 'Imo' (pronounced E-E-MOE) means 'Aunt' in Korean. I intentionally included this name in my book to reflect authentic cultural details.
Some people might comment on that name because it sounds funny or unnatural to American ears. But that's because it's not their culture. When we're talking about BIPOC characters in Sci-Fi or Fantasy, using unusual names is perfectly fine. However, when we feature underrepresented and marginalized communities in real-life scenarios, it is crucial to approach naming conventions with sensitivity and respect for their cultural authenticity. We must allow people to use culturally specific names without shaming them or expecting every name to conform to familiar standards like 'Bill' or 'Jill.'
This might seem like common sense, but you'd be surprised how many people might poke fun at a name or post something on social media criticizing an author for using a naming convention associated with the culture in their book. They don't intend to mock, but that's how it comes across.
My first name is Sonyo with an 'O' at the end, not 'Sonya.' It is not Spanish. It's a Korean name because I'm half-Korean. As a biracial author, I'm also half-Puerto Rican. Many people mistakenly think I'm male when they don't see me and only see my name on paper, as the 'O' at the end sounds masculine.
If we want more BIPOC characters, then we should be willing to accept their unique BIPOC names that aren't whitewashed or watered down to sound non-BIPOC.
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