“The Aboriginal names are extraordinary,” he says. “It’s about individualising — these people who don’t often feel they have an individual life. There’s a cry for personal recognition, to get out of a kinship society where you aren’t really an individual, you’re just a leaf on a tree.

[Peter Sutton] says the phenomenon is not confined to Aboriginal culture. “You’ll remember the Jaidyn Leskie murder: his mother was Bilynda. Wherever should have been an “i’ in a name, there was a “y’ instead. Those people came from Gippsland and, culturally, in many ways, they’re like rural blackfellas.”

“There’s some flash names going around,” Srymgour says. “It’s that American influence coming in, it’s that culture. On the Tiwis, there are the Shanikas and the Shanias.

THERE was a time when Aboriginal women in the north had names such as Topsy, Betty, Peggy, Molly or Rose.

Nowadays they are more likely to be christened Shaniqua, Tyeena, Zevida or Tazyne.

Or — in the case of girls’ names lifted off the roll of the Yipirinya Aboriginal school in Alice Springs — Shaewanah, Rashay, Sherneal, Tohneya, Mataya, Aaliyah, Keomi, Ellija, Naresha, Leitharne and Sheryth.

There has been a not-so-subtle shift among Aboriginal parents to select or, as is often the case, invent names for their daughters to make them sound like African-American female rappers or Bollywood stars.

And it is the case that it is the daughters, rather than the sons, who are more likely to get them. The boys still tend to be Jack and Joe or maybe — with a slight nod to deep south American culture — Leroy, Jake or Alwyn.

That too is changing. On the Yipirinya school roll you’ll find Junnuas, Anainus, Rakeem and Rennedy.

Fitzroy Crossing leader Joe Ross says: “It’s American rap music, no doubt about it. My own grandchildren are getting these names and it’s all coming out of television. It’s about finding your own space and your own name that no one else has.”

Lazy Saturday mornings lying around watching ABC TV’s Rage may have a lot to do with it. African-American stars such as Beyonce and Queen Latifah present as fabulous, powerful individuals in control of their destinies and their menfolk.

But the phenomenon goes deeper than that. For at least two decades, Aboriginal parents have been rejecting “white” names for their daughters. It is most noticeable on the long sweep from Broome up to Kununurra, in northern Western Australia, but the Northern Territory and Queensland are not immune.

Tahleigh Morris, 16, and Jennah-Leigh Dungay, 15, from Redfern in inner Sydney, like the fact they have unusual names.

“I don’t know any other Tahleighs”, the 16-year-old said. “My mother just made it up.

“I like having a name no one else has. It is about being an individual.”

Jennah-Leigh agrees. “It makes you like an individual, special. A name is the most important thing anyone can have. To have a name that is different is a really good thing.”

The two friends are fans of US culture, following hip-hop and rapper acts such as Beyonce, Chris Brown, Rihanna, 50 Cent and The Game. They say the music calms them down when they are stressed. They also like US movies, with American Gangster being one of their favourites.

“We relate more to America than Australia,” Tahleigh says. “Australians aren’t really out there yet. Americans go far. Australians try but fail.”

Anthropologist Peter Sutton says the naming trend began in the early 1980s with Aboriginal parents adding feminising suffixes to male names, so that a girl might be called Allana.

But then it took off into the realm of the remarkable.

“The Aboriginal names are extraordinary,” he says. “It’s about individualising — these people who don’t often feel they have an individual life. There’s a cry for personal recognition, to get out of a kinship society where you aren’t really an individual, you’re just a leaf on a tree.

“It also marks generational difference, and it says `I’m not a myall (wild Aborigine)’.”

Sutton says the phenomenon is not confined to Aboriginal culture. “You’ll remember the Jaidyn Leskie murder: his mother was Bilynda. Wherever should have been an “i’ in a name, there was a “y’ instead. Those people came from Gippsland and, culturally, in many ways, they’re like rural blackfellas.”

But there is no question Aborigines have taken it further. Brooke Jessell, who works for Kununurra’s Waringarri Aboriginal radio show, says it is now normal to hear unusual names.

“We’ve got Bquinda, Zevida, Melita and Tazyne,” she says.

“Sometimes I think those names sound Indian, like the Cherokee mob, or American black ones. I think it is a way of making yourself different from white people.”

Marion Scrymgour, a Northern Territory Aboriginal parliamentarian whose personal links are to the Tiwi Islands, north of Darwin, has also noticed it.

“There’s some flash names going around,” Srymgour says. “It’s that American influence coming in, it’s that culture. On the Tiwis, there are the Shanikas and the Shanias.

“I know from young Tiwi people it’s about getting away from the old Catholic thing. Who wants to call their kid Mary Concepta any more? That was what my old mothers were called.

“My name, and half of my sisters, came from the Catholic church and people are looking for something different.”

Yet it is curious that in an era of ever-growing black pride, young parents are not turning to the lexicon of traditional Aboriginal names.

Yipirinya school principal Ken Langford-Smith points to the strong Aboriginal custom that demands that if a person with the name of say, Bruce, dies, any of his relations named Bruce will lose their name and become “Kumanjayi” until the suitable mourning period has passed.

But if you have an unprecedented name, the custom is neatly bypassed; you need never become a Kumanjayi.

Former West Australian premier Peter Dowding, who has an indigenous son, says sitcoms and music television may have provided the inspiration for the names but he believes Aborigines are trying to create a different reality.

“Their day-to-day lives are often unattractive and tense,” Dowding says. “They are trying to separate themselves from that.

“I don’t think it’s about escaping white domination. It’s a whole different culture. They are expressing a reality for themselves which is different.

“We don’t seem to recognise that not even assimilation truly separates indigenous people from their culture — they will maintain it, in different ways.”

Credit: Paul Toohey, Additional reporting: John Stapleton