Names are
political objects.

Every baby-name app on the internet is a content farm for the same fifty Anglo-Norman noble surnames repackaged as first names. Brayden. Aiden. Hudson. Wellington. Names of dukes and developers, of railway barons and the streets they bought.

We made a different one. Type in any name and the registrar will hand you five alternatives — drawn from the long, crowded, unfinished archive of people who fought the world the dukes built.

We will not pretend a name does the work. A child named Rosa is not automatically a Luxemburg. But naming is one of the small daily gestures by which we declare what we love and refuse what we don't. It costs nothing. It lasts a lifetime. It annoys the right people at the registry office.

"What's in a name? That which we call a landlord by any other name would still charge rent."

The directory is curated, partial, and gladly accepts additions. The generator runs on a large language model — imperfect, occasionally confused about dates, never to be trusted alone with a birth certificate. Verify before printing on the cake.

Solidarity, and good luck with the baby.