My real first name is René. This caused me untold grief as a child. There were three René's in La Grenada elementary school, and the other two were girls. (Actually, there were two Renee's and one René [me]--note the spellings and the accent--but such niceties are lost on kids.) This led me to learn how to discuss my name with other kids while they were horizontal, which in turn led to other problems.
When I complained about my name, my mother said, "it's a beautiful French name." When I replied, "Yeah, but we don't live in beautiful France!", another set of problems arose.
When I was in the service, I went by my first name or my nickname. There, my first name was "Lieutenant" and my nickname was "Sir." Nobody teased me about being "René" more than once. But then, I was 6'3", weighed 196 lbs, and ran five miles before breakfast every day.
When I left the service, I changed from "René R. Breton" to "R. Roger Breton," and it's been that way ever since.
Now, it no longer matters what someone calls me, except I absolutely refuse to open any mail addressed to "Ms. Rene Breton." Even bills. I proved in court that I didn't have to, in IBM vs. Breton.
I think kids who are saddled with monikers that cause them grief growing up should sue the hell out of their parents the instant they turn 18.
Real instance... In 1983, Mr. and Mrs. Edwin Cox of San Diego, CA, had a beautiful baby girl, which they named "Fonda" in honor of Henry Fonda. Just think of her life as a teenager.