Sam Armytage: ‘What’s in a name? Um, everything’

Television host Samantha Armytage questions whether she’d be the same person if she had been christened Sequin Tassel Chrystal Clarabell rather than plain ol’ Sam.

Samantha Armytage: “If I’d been christened Sequin Tassel Chrystal Clarabell instead of Sam, would I be dancing at the Moulin Rouge instead of hosting breakfast TV?” (Picture: Damian Bennett for Stellar)

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As a well-loved, free-range child growing up in the Australian bush during the ’80s, I was very fortunate to have few real problems.

Probably my greatest daily concern was avoiding tiger snakes while playing on the banks of the Murrumbidgee River.

My other great angst was my name: Samantha. So easy to rhyme with “panther”.

I was the only one I’d ever heard of (before being introduced to Bewitched) and the taunting from the kids at school was merciless.

Oh, how I longed to be called Sarah. Or Suzie. Or Margaret (although there was one at my school and her nickname was “Maggot”, so perhaps my sleek jungle-animal homage, although uninvited, was not so bad).

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These names, given by often overwhelmed parents at birth, are our identity tags on this planet.

They’re the sounds we answer to, the first words we learn to spell, the first bits of information we have about others, and often help to shape our identities.

I do sometimes wonder if we had different names, we’d be different people.

If I’d been christened Sequin Tassel Chrystal Clarabell instead of Sam, would I be dancing at the Moulin Rouge instead of hosting breakfast TV?

When Juliet is trying to lure Romeo away from his family (The House of Montague, cool name!) she utters, “What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

If dogs had been called rats, would we be as happy to let them snuggle with us on the couch?

Would Elton John have been as successful if he was still called Reginald Dwight?

Does Katy Perry still feel like Katheryn Hudson in her quiet moments?

Why did Joaquin Bottom’s parents dump his original surname for Phoenix? (That’s a rhetorical question. I totally get that one.)

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Why on earth would John Stephens change his name to John Legend? Maurice Micklewhite morph into Michael Caine? Or Peter Hernandez become Bruno Mars?

Remember when Mandy Rogers from Geelong became Portia de Rossi?

What turned Jennifer Anastassakis into Aniston? Prince into a symbol? Destiny Hope Cyrus to plain old Miley?

Barty Paterson chose his own fabulous nickname after one of his father’s horses — The Banjo.

I tried to change my name to Clare as a child, but it didn’t take off and Panther returned.

And during my adult life, while at the pub, I have often (OK, occasionally) given fake names to blokes trying to get a phone number. Cheryl is a favourite.

Samantha Armytage’s column is in Stellar this Sunday.

Did the Aussie bloke/urban myth Wayne King ever change his name by deed poll? How about Callum Murray?

There’s a beetle in America with huge biceps (for an insect) called Agra schwarzeneggeri. I bet you can guess which Austrian body-builder-turned-politician it was named after.

We pick racehorses by their names. We run books on what the royals will call their babies. And we often recoil in horror at what Hollywood stars name their offspring.

So I, Samantha the Panther Sequin Tassel Chrystal Clarabell Armytage stand before you to say, think carefully before you name your children, dogs and beetles — as a rose by any other name can sometimes just be... a weed.

Samantha co-hosts Sunrise, 5.30am weekdays, on the Seven Network.

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