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Growing up, I faced some rather unfortunate questions about my last name. “Is your mom a professional?” “Does your grandma get paid for… you know?” “Do you also engage in that line of work?”
You can guess from these delightful inquiries that my surname had some rather unsavory connotations. Until I turned 25, my last name was Hooker — a term synonymous with someone who trades sexual favors for money.
Through my teenage research, I discovered that the surname Hooker has Anglo-Saxon roots, dating back centuries. It likely originated from agricultural workers using a specific type of hook during the medieval harvest. However, the slang “hooker” didn’t gain traction until the publication of Xaviera Hollander’s 1972 book, “The Happy Hooker.” This meant my father, who bestowed this name upon me, faced no such ridicule during his youth, as the term hadn’t yet taken off.
When my sister and I reached our teenage years, we wanted to change our last name, but my dad didn’t see it as an option. He simply couldn’t comprehend the need.
The teasing kicked off in middle school when my peers learned the meaning behind Hooker, right at the peak of their cruelty. My sister, being confident and pretty, handled it with grace, while I, a chubby nerd, had to either suffer in silence or develop a quick wit to combat the taunts.
“Is your mom a professional?” “Sure, but judging by your shoes, you can’t afford her services.” “Is your sister a… you know?” “Sorry, she doesn’t deal in those kinds of transactions.” “Do you engage in that work?” “Only with your mom, and only while you’re asleep.”
Okay, maybe my comebacks weren’t Oscar-worthy, but they helped me cope. I soon realized that those who mock names often lack the creativity to come up with something better.
Picture this: I’m sitting in a cramped Mississippi classroom, and a substitute teacher announces she’s taking attendance by last name.
“Hooker…” The word echoed in the room, halting all noise. My heart raced as the realization hit: everyone knew my last name. Hearing it spoken aloud felt like being hit with invisible spitballs from all sides.
This scenario played out monthly, warping my memories with embarrassment. I later discovered that my mother, who had a more respectable surname, Gagliano, had once threatened to leave my father over his refusal to change it. She understood the impact it had on us. My friend, Alex, shared my plight with his unfortunate last name, Smelley, and we both changed our names in our mid-twenties.
Do I regret my childhood with an awkward surname? Not really. If I’d been Brad Smith, I’d probably be a more confident yet less interesting person. I embrace my quirks. But I do take solace in the fact that my future children will be spared such emotional turmoil. Given the genetic quirks they might inherit from me, like a tendency for cavities, a mundane last name seems like a small gift.
For more on navigating family and parenthood, check out this linked article on home insemination. If you’re interested in fertility options, this fertility booster is a great resource. You can also find valuable information on IVF as you explore your options.
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