01/07/2026
Early US naming patterns... Also another naming pattern in Virginia - if the child has an unusual first or middle name like Baker, Wheelhouse, Peterson, etc...usually it is to honor the birth name of an female ancestor such as the mother or a grandmother....
New England parents named 90% of babies from the Bible—and when a child died, they reused the name 80% of the time. Meanwhile in Virginia, no one was naming their kids "Patrick" or "David."
Colonial America, 1600s-1700s.
If you could travel back in time and visit different colonial regions, you'd notice something strange: the names are completely different depending on where you are.
Walk through a New England town, and you'll meet endless Marys, Elizabeths, Sarahs, Johns, Josephs, and Samuels. Almost every name comes straight from the Bible.
Travel to Virginia, and suddenly you're surrounded by Williams, Roberts, Richards, Margarets, and Catherines. Biblical names exist, but they're mixed with names of kings, knights, and English tradition.
Head to the Delaware Valley where Quakers settled, and the pattern shifts again. More biblical names, but also Phoebe, Grace, Mercy, and Chastity.
And in the Appalachian backcountry? You'll find Andrews, Patricks, and Davids—names almost nonexistent in New England.
These aren't random differences. They're cultural fingerprints. And they reveal how deeply different the various British migrations to America really were.
Start with New England.
Over 90% of all first names given to babies born in New England come from the Bible. Not just "Bible-inspired." Literally biblical names.
For girls, the top three names dominate: Mary, Elizabeth, and Sarah. Over half of all New England girls receive one of these three names. The repetition is staggering.
For boys, John, Joseph, Samuel, and Josiah are everywhere.
But here's what's fascinating: New England Puritans are selective about which biblical names they use. Some are considered too bold, too presumptuous.
Moses? Rarely used. Adam? Almost never. Abraham and Solomon? Too audacious—these are names of biblical giants, and who are we to claim such names for our children?
Emmanuel and Jesus? Absolutely taboo. You don't name your child after God incarnate. That's blasphemy.
Even angel names like Michael and Gabriel are avoided. Angels are divine beings. Humans shouldn't presume to bear their names.
So New England parents stick to "safe" biblical names. Saints and apostles are acceptable. Old Testament figures who aren't too exalted. The result is a limited pool of endlessly repeated names.
And then there's the practice of "necronyms"—reusing the names of dead children.
When a baby dies in New England (and infant mortality is high), 80% of the time the parents give the next child of the same s*x the exact same name.
Your daughter Mary dies at age two. Your next daughter is also named Mary. It's almost automatic.
Two-thirds of firstborn New England children are named after their parents. The eldest son gets his father's name. The eldest daughter gets her mother's name. Family naming is systematic, predictable, and biblical.
Now travel to Virginia.
Virginia's naming culture is completely different.
Biblical names exist, but they're minority choices. Instead, Virginians favor names of kings, knights, and heroes.
For boys: William, Robert, Richard, Edward, George, Charles. These are royal names. Warrior names. Names that evoke English nobility and martial tradition.
For girls: Margaret, Jane, Catherine, Frances, Alice, along with some biblical choices like Mary, Elizabeth, Anne, and Sarah.
Virginia's gentry are trying to replicate English aristocratic culture. They want their children's names to sound like landed nobility, not religious zealots.
Virginians also have different naming patterns. First-born children are typically named after grandparents. Second children get their parents' names. It's a system, but it's about family lineage rather than religious devotion.
And Virginians use necronyms less frequently than New Englanders. When a child dies, they sometimes reuse the name, but not with New England's 80% rate. Death is acknowledged differently—the dead child remains a distinct individual rather than a name to be recycled.
Now visit the Delaware Valley, where Quakers settled.
Quakers mix biblical and traditional English names, but with their own twist.
Boys: John, Joseph, William, Thomas, Samuel, Francis, George. A blend of biblical and English.
Girls: Mary, Elizabeth, Sarah—the biblical standards. But also Phoebe, Grace, Mercy, Chastity, and Hannah. Virtue names appear more frequently. These are values-based names that reflect Quaker ethics.
Quakers follow a specific, rigid naming pattern:
First son: maternal grandfather's name Second son: paternal grandfather's name
Third son: father's name
First daughter: paternal grandmother's name Second daughter: maternal grandmother's name Third daughter: mother's name
It's formulaic. Predictable. You can almost chart a family tree just by knowing children's birth order and names.
Finally, the Appalachian backcountry.
This region, settled largely by Scots-Irish from the Scottish-English borderlands, has a unique naming pattern.
Biblical names appear—John is the most popular. But mixed in are names almost invisible in other regions: Andrew, Patrick, and David.
These are saints' names. Border saints. Scottish and Irish patron saints.
In New England, you'll almost never meet a Patrick. Harvard College didn't admit a single student named Patrick from 1636 to 1820. Not one. In nearly 200 years.
But in Cumberland County, Pennsylvania—backcountry territory—Patrick is the fourth most popular name on military muster rolls.
David is common in the backcountry but rare in New England. Why? Puritans aren't comfortable with King David. Yes, he killed Goliath and wrote psalms. He was also an adulterer who arranged a murder. Not exactly a role model for your child.
But Scots-Irish settlers don't care about David's moral failings. They care that he's a warrior king. A fighter. That's the kind of legacy they want for their sons.
Over time, of course, these patterns fade. As the colonies grow, as populations mix, as cultural boundaries blur, naming becomes less rigid and regional.
By the 1800s, you can't look at a name and instantly know which colonial culture someone descended from.
But in the 1600s and 1700s, names were cultural markers. They told you whether someone came from Puritan Massachusetts or Anglican Virginia. Whether their ancestors were Quakers or Scots-Irish borderers.
And they revealed something deeper: how different groups thought about identity, family, religion, and tradition.
New England's obsessive biblical naming reflected Puritan theology—we are God's chosen people, living biblical lives.
Virginia's royal naming reflected gentry aspirations—we are English nobility transplanted to America.
Quaker systematic naming reflected community values—family lineage matters, and there's a proper order to things.
Backcountry warrior-saint naming reflected border culture—we honor fighters and survivors.
Today, you can name your child anything. Regional naming patterns have disappeared. Cultural constraints are gone.
But for colonial Americans, a name wasn't just a name. It was a declaration of who you were, where you came from, and what you believed.
And whether or not you'd ever meet a Patrick in Massachusetts.
