Publisher's Perspective

     Few things are as precious—or as proprietary—as naming rights. Any new parent will tell you that suggestions for baby names are as welcome as visitors in the delivery room.
But gay Tampa Bay is abuzz with opinions about two recently announced names: "Clip," the new name for the Tampa International Gay and Lesbian Film Festival; and "GaYBOR," the new designation for the gay-friendly west end of Ybor City. 
     To the originators, the names strike just the right tone. 
     "The film festival is growing up," explains TIGLFF executive director Chuck Henson.  
     "If we're going to attract gays and lesbians to Ybor, we need to put it out there," hypes MC Film Festival's Carrie West.
     But to critics, the names are opposite extremes. Clip is too trendy and nondescript; GaYBOR too crass and limiting. "The ambiguous name says nothing," St. Petersburg's Dale Boggs said of Clip in a letter to Watermark. "Another part of gay culture has died."
     We gays and lesbians are not new to the name game. Committees have obsessed over the title for every local Pride event. Community centers have shifted labels as though mixing a bowl of alphabet soup. All three local business guilds decided, with some dissension, to downplay their GLBT-friendly missions with their monikers. And it took many meetings —and trademark attorneys—to decide that Gay Days should include an "s".       
     The challenge for TIGLFF was three-fold. The old name was a mouthful—to say, to write and to consolidate into a useable acronym. It also excluded increasingly vocal St. Petersburg, which now hosts several successful festival events. And it defied the trend among cutting-edge festivals to promote expanded missions with catchy, conceptual names like Frameline (San Francisco), NewFest (New York City), OutFest (Los Angeles) and Reel Affirmations (Washington, D.C.). 
     In Ybor City, West and partner Mark Bias—two treasures of Tampa Bay's GLBT community—were starting from scratch. When the Suncoast Resort closed, they decided to move their landmark gift store back across the bay and closer to their Hyde Park home. They found a deserted storefront at the corner of 8th Avenue and 15th Street near the former Tracks. But after moving in, they were frustrated by the pace of business on Ybor's slower west side. They also discovered a number of GLBT-friendly businesses, all eager to increase traffic to the historic neighborhood.
     GaYBOR describes a 12-square-block area just west of CentroYbor with more than 20 participating businesses, including several popular nightclubs. It's no Castro, where colorful GLBT foot traffic is the primary attraction, but there are plans for more retail, restaurants, bars and special events to serve as drawing cards for locals and tourists. Day or night, we love nothing more than looking at one another. 
     As a name, GaYBOR lacks the subtlety, history and universal accessibility of Castro, Oak Lawn, Montrose, Chelsea and Dupont Circle—all established gay ghettos. Like Chicago's Boystown, GaYBOR's primary attribute is a lack of ambiguity.   
     When I conceived this newspaper, I fretted over the name for weeks. Like Clip, the one I chose has been criticized for lacking GLBT symbolism. Fourteen years later, I'm still asked about it. 
     I wanted a name that was sophisticated, evoked Florida and did not employ any well-worn GLBT clichés (e.g., rainbows and triangles). With lots of help from my first creative director, April Gustetter, I wrote down more than a hundred possibilities and began crossing them off. Watermark—April's idea—was simply the last one left. (The second-place finisher was Coast to Coast.)   
     For me, the name signified that our local GLBT community had risen to a level—a watermark—that warranted a more ambitious publication. Later, one of our writers uncovered a more profound symbolism: a watermark is a sign of quality found in stationery, but is only apparent when held up to the light. What a wonderful metaphor for the gay experience.  
     Mark, Carrie and the film festival have named their babies. They don't want my opinions, but I'll offer them anyway. 
     The festival may ultimately be served by its sleek new first name, but promotions should include an unambiguous middle and last. For example: "Clip: Tampa Bay's GLBT Film Fest."
Similarly, GaYBOR would likely attract more diverse visitors—and businesses—with a classier, more inclusive label that could then be augmented by a catchy marketing slogan, like: "Ybor's West End—where gay is historic."
     I have nine nieces and nephews, and I didn't like some of their names when they were first presented. But names are just labels for something far more profound, and they ultimately take on the characteristics of that which they describe. Today, the names of each of my nieces and nephews are music to my ears.
If it works that way with kids, there's no reason it shouldn't work that way with events, neighborhoods and even newspapers.