By The Editorial Board
Gina Hinojosa’s victory over incumbent Greg Abbott in the Texas gubernatorial race was a historic moment. In a race that has not elected a Democratic governor in more than three decades, Hinojosa’s victory comes along with a political shift evident across the country.
Yet amid the celebration, when Hinojosa took the stage to deliver a victory speech, her supporters chanted “Gina.”
Perhaps you can argue that it is simply easier than chanting her surname. Still, this occasion reflects a larger linguistic pattern not often discussed: female politicians are regularly referred to by their first names, while their male counterparts tend to be afforded the formality of their surnames.
On one side, it is consistently Hillary, Kamala and Gina. Meanwhile, it is Trump, Obama, Biden and Talarico.
Sure, this might seem insignificant or even a warmer version of a last name. First names can communicate affection, enthusiasm, familiarity or adoration. Yet on that accord, why is that familiarity disproportionately reserved for females?
Surnames have consistently carried a sense of professional authority and formality. In politics, they often become shorthand for ideologies, administrations and legacies. Think “Trump,” and you consider the “Make America Great Again” political movement and administration. Think “Obama,” and you recall his legacy and his 2008 promise of “hope and change.”
We believe this convention is not arbitrary. In her 2024 Medium essay, “Why Do We Call Politicians by Their Surnames? The Art of Political Address,” Nilanjana Basu explains that surnames have historically signaled “respect and formality,” helping establish a “clear, professional identity.” Basu also argues surnames maintain professional boundaries and reinforce the phenomenon that “political leaders are public figures whose identities transcend their personal lives.”
If surnames are traditionally associated with this professionalism and authority, as Basu suggests, the distinction is more than an elusive linguistic norm. The disproportionate use of first names for women furthers the idea that female politicians are not afforded the same recognition of their professional identities as their male counterparts.
This is such an important observation because the language that is used to describe political leaders heavily shapes how their authority is perceived. When women are so typically addressed through familiarity than formality, their professional identities risk being overshadowed by their personal ones.
Women have fought for decades for a seat at the political table. Evidently, they are still fighting to be addressed at it.
This distinction became particularly apparent when President Donald Trump remarked at his Oct. 27 Corpus Christi rally that “nobody knows her last name,” referring to former Vice President Kamala Harris. “They just call her Kamala,” he said.
Trump articulated the problem presented perfectly — Harris’ first name had become her political identity, while her surname seemed secondary. His comment shows how easily familiarity can become a political tool.
The same argument could apply to Hinojosa. Her supporters may have chanted her first name because it may be easier to pronounce for some. That is a reasonable explanation for one instance, but it does not explain the broader pattern. Kamala Harris and Hillary Clinton do not have a surname that is particularly difficult; still, their first names have become the default.
And no, the issue is not that referring to a woman by her first name is inherently disrespectful. In fact, some politicians deliberately cultivate first-name recognition, and supporters may use it affectionately to narrow the gap between the elusive politician and the public. However, the problem is the inconsistency. Familiarity comes naturally for women, yet formality remains the default for men.
Language does not merely reflect power; rather, it helps determine who gets to exercise it. And for women, who already have to navigate a difficult balance in politics, that language use takes away parts of that power. Sure, the distinction between a first and last name is small, but that distinction between familiarity and authority is not.
Hinojosa and other women elected to positions of power are only part of the equation. We must also examine the language we use to recognize that power. It is hard to believe that Texans would have chanted “Greg” if the victory fell on the other side.
Just because the U.S. is willing to elect women doesn’t mean it sees them in the same light as men. When the next wave of congressional and presidential hopefuls make themselves known ahead of 2028, make sure to see the women on the ballot as more than a hot commodity, an anti-candidate or a first name.
