Additional Coverage:
- My name went from being very popular to a frumpy archetype. At least my parents gave me a unique spelling. (businessinsider.com)
My Name Is Lynda (With a “Y,” Thank You Very Much)
I’m a Gen X-er, which means I’m saddled with a name popular with Baby Boomers. It’s a name that often draws blank stares or comments like, “Linda?
That’s my aunt’s name!” I can’t even count how many times some cute boy uttered those words to me in high school.
My sister, ever so blunt, once declared, “You have an old name because you had old parents.” My friends, bless their hearts, tried to be more diplomatic: “No, the ‘y’ makes it a totally different name!”
But my sister wasn’t wrong. Lynda is an older name, and these days, the name Linda has become a shorthand for a certain frumpy archetype. How did a name that was once wildly popular become so…uncool?
The “y” in my name is the only thing separating me from the Lindas of the world. It’s the difference between being the subject of good-natured ribbing and being a full-blown comedic trope.
Think of the running gag in “The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt” where everyone is baffled by a baby named Linda because Lindas are supposed to be middle-aged women who work in HR. Or the “Listen Linda” meme, featuring a toddler exasperatedly trying to reason with his stubbornly oblivious mother.
As a Lynda, I can sidestep those stereotypes. At least, I tell myself I can.
The humor in these depictions relies on the shared understanding that we all know a “Linda.” She’s the one who carries SlimFast in her purse and gets perpetually flustered when she can’t find her keys.
She’s the one who greets Monday mornings with a world-weary sigh and offers unsolicited, often unwelcome, advice. We all recognize her, but how did this name become so synonymous with this particular persona?
The truth is, Linda was an incredibly popular name in its heyday, peaking in the late 1940s. But its popularity plummeted in the following decades, making it a rare choice for babies today. This generational shift is precisely why Linda has become associated with a certain age and, by extension, a certain set of characteristics.
While I haven’t always loved my name, I’ve never seriously considered changing it. Partly because I suspect I’d just end up with another name I’d eventually grow tired of.
But more importantly, my name has a special significance. My father always wanted a daughter named Linda.
My mother suggested the “y” to make it a bit unique. The name held meaning for them, and now that they’re both gone, it’s a tangible link to my past, a connection to my parents.
So, yes, my name is Lynda, with a “y.” And I’m keeping it.
It’s a part of who I am, a reminder of where I came from. And besides, as long as I can find my keys, I’m not quite ready to embrace the “Linda” stereotype just yet.