Here’s a problem you probably never thought about: what happens when half your village is named Jan or Sjoerd, and the other half is named Geart or Akke?
Welcome to historical Friesland, where the naming system was so repetitive that people had to get creative just to figure out who they were talking about.
The solution? Nicknames. Lots and lots of nicknames. And they were absolutely brutal.
In Frisian villages, you couldn’t just be “Jan.” There were too many Jans. You had to be “Jan the Tall” or “Jan with the Red Hair” or “Jan Who Lives by the Canal.” And if you were unlucky, you might end up being “Jan Who Fell Off His Roof That One Time.”
These weren’t cute little pet names either. These were official identifiers that stuck with you for life. Your embarrassing moment at age twelve? That’s your name now. Forever.
The Frisian language has a whole system for this called “toanammen” (additional names). They’re different from last names because they’re way more personal and way more specific.
Some were based on where you lived: “Wytse fan ‘e Buorren” (Wytse from the Neighborhoods) or “Hinke fan ‘e Brek” (Hinke from the Marsh). Pretty straightforward.
Others were based on your dad’s name: “Durk Jans” meant “Durk, son of Jan.” This one makes sense and is actually pretty common across many cultures.
But then things got weird.
Physical characteristics were fair game. “Grutte Pier” meant “Big Pier” and he was actually a famous Frisian warrior. “Read Hotse” was “Red Hotse” because of his hair. “Lytse Jaap” was “Little Jaap” and hopefully he had a good sense of humor about it.
Personality traits were even more brutal. You could be known as “Stille Sjoerd” (Quiet Sjoerd) or “Djurre de Lomperd” (Djurre the Clumsy One). Imagine introducing yourself at parties.
Jobs became names too. “Bauke de Bakker” (Bauke the Baker) makes sense. But what about “Jippe de Rattenfeier” (Jippe the Rat Catcher)? That’s a real one, by the way.
The best ones were based on random incidents that someone never lived down. Fall into a ditch once? You’re now “[Name] from the Ditch.” Lose a fight with a goose? Everyone will remember.
This system wasn’t just for fun. It was genuinely necessary. Church records from the 1700s show dozens of people with identical first names in single parishes. Without these nicknames, nobody could keep track of who owed who money or who was married to whom.
When Napoleon conquered the Netherlands in 1811, he demanded everyone pick a permanent last name for official records. This was supposedly to make administration easier, but many Frisians saw it as yet another example of outsiders messing with their culture.
Some Frisians just turned their nicknames into last names. That’s why you see Dutch surnames like “De Groot” (The Big One), “De Vries” (The Frisian), or “Van der Meer” (From the Lake).
Others got creative in ways that were definitely acts of rebellion. Some families picked joke names because they thought the whole thing was stupid. That’s supposedly how names like “Naaktgeboren” (Born Naked) or “Zonderland” (Without Land) came about.
Today, the tradition of toanammen still exists in rural Frisian communities, especially among older generations. You’ll hear people refer to neighbors by nicknames that have been passed down through families.
The funny thing is, learning Frisian means learning to navigate this whole nickname culture. You can’t just translate “Sjoerd Pieters” directly. You need to know if that’s official-record Sjoerd or if he’s actually known as “Sjoerd mei de hûn” (Sjoerd with the dog) in daily conversation.
It’s one of those cultural quirks that makes Frisian feel like a living, breathing community language rather than just words in a textbook. Names aren’t just labels. They’re stories, jokes, and sometimes gentle (or not-so-gentle) roasting that’s lasted for generations.
So next time you meet someone with a Frisian background, ask about family nicknames. You might hear some absolutely legendary stories about great-great-grandfather who earned his nickname in the most ridiculous way possible.
And be grateful your embarrassing childhood moments didn’t become your legal identity.
