When a baby is born, the name reflects more about the parents than the child, says Laura Wattenberg, author of The Baby Name Wizard. “It’s about the parents, their class, values and personality.”

For African-Americans choosing a name for their child is more complex because of the legacy of the transatlantic slave trade.

Historically, black Americans have been defined by Eurocentric names established through slavery and passed down generations. During the Black Power Movement of the 1960s, African-Americans abandoned what they considered as “slave names” and opted for more meaningful Afrocentric alternatives.

Even here, though, the choice is muddled, with some choosing “real” African names and others going for African-sounding names such as Tiana, Tyquan or Shemika.

Georgia-born Molefi Kete Asante, a leading Afrocentric scholar, concedes his birth name is Arthur Lee Smith,Jr., but he adopted Asante after a life-changing trip to Ghana in 1973 opened his eyes to “how dislocated and out-of-sync he was to his historical reality.”

Unsurprisingly, Asante has given all his children African names. His daughter is Eka, from the Ibibio people of southern Nigeria and his son is Molefi Kumalo. Molefi is South African and the origin of Kumalo is Zulu.

“Just as I wouldn’t give my children Swedish, Chinese or Japanese names I didn’t want to give them English names,” says Astante, a professor at the department of African-American Studies at Temple University.

“So many of us live in an insane asylum; we don’t juxtapose the difference between our historical reality and the meaning of names.”

Asante, the author of over 70 books, including The Book of African Names and African Names and Their Meanings, adds “we are victims of the slave master” and “took on names he gave us,” but he says, “I refuse to take on a name that has no meaning and I refuse to be a puppet.”

“African names are a statement of pride, but there is often an element of style. Black American parents tend to choose names from Africa that sound good to the American ear,” says Wattenberg.

Michelle Williams, a career-oriented mom-of-two, however, has opted to give her sons traditional names. Her youngest is Reynolds Scott Jefferson, after his parental great-grandfather; nevertheless, family and friends affectionately call the 3-year-old R.J.

“It’s a strong, powerful, prestigious name that he can carry in the workforce, especially if he ends up in corporate America,” says Williams. “Everything is about presentation and your name says so much about you even before people meet you.”

Father of four Mahasse Cornelius, a teacher at an elementary school in Atlanta, agrees. Despite the fact that he was named after his mother’s Ethiopian friend, it never crossed his mind to give any of his children African names.

“Giving children names that can identify them as minorities may not be the best thing for the child,” says Cornelius. “I Iike my name, but in some ways it’s been more of a hindrance than anything else.” He adds, “Some people think Mahasse is a Muslim name and make preconceived judgments when I apply for jobs.”

Cornelius, who has worked in more than one school in Atlanta, says he has witnessed a trend for Afrocentric or black American sounding names like Imani, Lakisha or Jamal, although this is less prevalent in upscale neighborhoods.

“You start from the basis of a traditional African name such as Amani and then build on that, so for example, parents might come up with the name Jamani,” says Boston-based author Wattenberg.

These parents are trying to rediscover their African identity, but may not have a “real” African name as a starting point, so come up with these original and sometimes unusual African-sounding names, says Asante. “But what they do know is that they don’t want to name their child the name of the oppressor.”

Williams, nonetheless, says there is a difference between international names and crazy, funny-sounding, made up names with weird spellings.

Cornelius says prior to teaching in Buckhead — an affluent area in Atlanta — he taught at a school in Bankhead in downtown Atlanta and come across names like “Lil and Mercedes.” He even met a girl called “Alize” because her dad liked to drink the liqueur. “It’s like these African-American parents didn’t put much thought into their children’s names,” Cornelius told theGrio.

“Names that have a marker of a lower socio-economic status tend to give kids the most problems,” according to Wattenberg. “It’s about teachers basing a conclusion about their background.”

Whatever the reason for choosing a birth name, more and more research reveals a name can have a significant impact on a child’s life, says Wattenberg.

Various studies show Afrocentric or black-sounding names incur a bias, especially in the competitive recruitment process. Applicants with resumes with white names are more likely to get callbacks for job interviews than applicants with distinctly African-American sounding names, even if they have equivalent qualifications. This cuts across all occupations and industries.

Ultimately, it is a parent’s sacred right to name his or her child just as they please. For many the need to reconnect with their African roots far outweighs any potential obstacles. Others are more comfortable with conventional names that “roll of the tongue.” There are even those who swear their unique first name is an advantage that helps them stand out.