BoyNames.net

Dutch boy names

The defining fact about modern Dutch naming is that the short form won. For centuries a Dutch boy was registered as Daniël and called Daan; somewhere around the 1980s parents stopped maintaining the fiction and simply wrote Daan on the certificate. Sem, Thijs, Gijs, Teun, Bas, Cas and Koen are not nicknames waiting for a formal version to be produced at a wedding. They are the legal names.

The short forms that won

Each of these was once a roepnaam, the call name a child answered to at home while something longer sat on the paperwork. None of them is in the current U.S. top 100; several have spent two decades near the top of the Dutch birth register.

Traditional Dutch names

The full forms that the short ones came out of, plus the names of the counts, the painters and the guildhalls. These have been ordinary in the Low Countries for four hundred years and more.

The ones English mouths get wrong

Dutch spelling is regular and Dutch sounds are not English sounds, which is a difficult combination. Every name here is easy once, and impossible until then.

How Dutch naming works

The old system had two names for one child. The registered name honoured a grandparent and went into the books in its most formal shape — Daniël, Cornelis, Bartholomeus, Antonius — and the roepnaam, the call name, was what the household actually said. Because Dutch families named children after grandparents in a fixed order, the formal names recurred relentlessly down the generations while the call names did the work of telling people apart. When parents began registering the call name instead, the whole top of the Dutch charts changed shape inside a decade. The figures that record this come from the Nederlandse Voornamenbank, kept by the Meertens Instituut and fed from the municipal population register, so what is being counted is strictly the name on the certificate — which is exactly why the change is visible at all.

Two more things are worth knowing before you use one of these names in English. The first is the digraph ij, which Dutch treats as a single letter: it had its own typewriter key, it fills one square in a Dutch crossword, and both halves capitalise together, so the lake is the IJsselmeer and a man named IJsbrand writes it that way on his passport. Alongside it sit ui, a diphthong with no English counterpart at all, and the scraped g of Gijs and Guus. The second is the tussenvoegsel, the little words that sit between a given name and a surname — van, de, van der, van den. In the Netherlands they are written lower case after a first name and capitalised when the surname stands alone, so it is Vincent van Gogh but meneer Van Gogh, and Dutch directories alphabetise him under G. Belgium does it the other way and keeps the capital throughout, which is one of the quieter ways a Flemish name announces itself.

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