Most people think they know the story of the girl with skin as white as snow and lips as red as blood. You’ve seen the Disney movie. You know the "Heigh-Ho" song. But honestly, the history of names for Snow White is a chaotic mess of regional folklore and weird linguistic shifts that go back way further than a 1937 animation.
If you grew up in the English-speaking world, "Snow White" feels like the only option. It’s definitive. It’s iconic. But if you were a kid in 19th-century Italy or a village in the Swiss Alps, you would have called her something completely different. We’re talking about a character that exists in hundreds of versions across the globe. Each culture took the "pale as snow" motif and ran with it in their own direction.
The German Original and the Brothers Grimm
Let’s start with the big one. Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm didn't just pull the name out of thin air. In their original 1812 collection, Kinder- und Hausmärchen, she was Sneewittchen. That’s Low German. It sounds a bit more guttural and grounded than the airy "Snow White" we use now.
Interestingly, the Grimms were obsessed with purity in language, but they also edited their stories constantly. By the time they reached their final edition in 1857, the name had shifted slightly toward the High German Schneeweißchen. You might recognize that name from a totally different story—Snow-White and Rose-Red—which is a completely separate tale involving a bear and a mean dwarf. It gets confusing because translators often used the same English name for two different girls. One lives with seven miners; the other has a sister and hangs out with a transformed prince-bear.
Why the Italian Version is Much Weirder
If you head south to Italy, the name changes entirely. There is no "snow" in the most famous Italian variant collected by Italo Calvino. In many regions, she is known as Bella Venezia.
Why Venice? Well, in the Mediterranean context, beauty wasn't always compared to winter weather. It was compared to the most beautiful city in the world. In the story "The Girl in the Basket," the protagonist is named Giricoccola. It’s a mouthful. It doesn't have that same "purity" vibe that Northern European names for Snow White carry. Instead, it feels more like a local nickname you’d hear shouted across a piazza.
There's also La Schiavona, which pops up in some older Italian records. It translates roughly to "The Slav," which reflects historical tensions and the way "the other" was often cast as the protagonist in folk tales. It’s a far cry from a magic mirror and a poison apple.
The French Connection and the "Fallen" Names
In France, the name is Blanche-Neige. It’s a direct translation, sure. But before the Grimm brothers standardized the fairy tale world, French oral traditions had their own flavors.
Sometimes she was simply La Petite Toute-Belle—the little all-beautiful. The French tradition often focused more on her status as a displaced aristocrat than her physical color. In some versions, like those analyzed by folklorist Paul Delarue, the emphasis shifts away from the snow metaphor toward her relationship with the moon or the sun.
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Variations Across the World
The archetype of the persecuted heroine with skin like a specific natural element is universal. Check out these variations that serve as functional names for Snow White in their respective cultures:
- In Armenia, you find Nourie Hadig. This name translates to "Pomegranate Seed." It’s a brilliant cultural pivot. In a region where pomegranates are the symbol of life and beauty, why would you compare a girl to snow? You compare her to the bright, translucent red of a seed.
- Western Scotland gives us Gold-tree and Silver-tree. This is a weird one. The Snow White figure is Gold-tree, and her mother (the jealous one) is Silver-tree. The "naming" here isn't about color, but about precious metals. It suggests a higher social standing and a much more "metallic," cold rivalry.
- In Greece, she is often called Myrsina, which means "Myrtle." It’s earthy. It’s floral. It’s very Mediterranean.
The Disney Effect and the Seven Dwarfs Problem
We can't talk about names for Snow White without talking about Walt Disney. Before 1937, the dwarfs didn't even have settled names. They were just a collective unit of forest dwellers. Disney’s team went through dozens of potential names—stuff like Jumpy, Wheezy, and Baldy—before settling on the ones we know.
But for Snow White herself, Disney kept it simple. He leaned into the 19th-century English translations. By doing so, he effectively erased the regional names. He turned a diverse group of folk characters into a single, global brand.
Now, if you go to Japan, she is Shirayuki-hime. Shira (white), yuki (snow), hime (princess). It’s a perfect linguistic mirror of the English name. The globalized media machine has basically flattened the interesting, gritty local names into this one "Snow White" template.
The Darker Side of the Naming Convention
Folklorists like Maria Tatar have pointed out that these names aren't just descriptions. They are burdens. When a mother wishes for a child "as white as snow," she is setting a standard for purity that is impossible to live up to. In many early versions, the girl isn't even named until the mother makes that blood-on-the-snow wish.
She doesn't have a name of her own. She has a name that represents her mother's desire. That's why names like Sneewittchen feel a bit heavier when you read the original German. It’s not a cute nickname. It’s a literal description of a biological freak of nature—a child born of a curse or a wish.
How to Choose a Name for a Retelling
If you're a writer or a creative looking for names for Snow White that don't feel like a Disney rip-off, look at the etymology. You don't have to use "Snow." You can look at what snow represents in your specific setting.
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- Winter-centric names: Eira (Welsh for snow), Lumi (Finnish), or Khione (Greek goddess of snow).
- Color-based names: Alba, Bianca, or Gwendolyn (which contains the root for "white").
- Metaphorical names: If you’re going for the Armenian vibe, look at fruits or gems. Ruby, Garnet, or even something like Alabaster.
What People Get Wrong About the Name
The biggest misconception? That "Snow White" is a first and last name. It’s not. It’s a compound descriptive name. In the oldest tales, she doesn't have a surname because she is a royal or a folk figure.
Also, people often confuse her with the character from Snow White and Rose Red. If you're looking for names for Snow White, make sure you aren't accidentally looking for Schneeweißchen, who lives in a cottage with her sister and loves a bear. Different girl. Different vibe. Totally different fate.
Moving Forward With This Knowledge
If you’re researching this for a project or just because you’re a folklore nerd, stop looking at the Disney version. Go to the sources. Look at the Pentamerone by Giambattista Basile. Look at the Celtic variants. You’ll find that the "name" is often the least interesting part of the character—it’s the cultural baggage attached to that name that matters.
Practical Next Steps:
- Audit your sources: If you’re writing a story, check if the name you’ve chosen has accidental historical baggage. Calling a character "Blanche" carries different weight than calling her "Eira."
- Check the linguistic roots: Use a tool like the Online Etymology Dictionary to see if your chosen "snow" name actually means what you think it does in the original language.
- Diversify the metaphor: Consider if "white as snow" is even the right metaphor for your setting. If your story takes place in a desert, maybe she’s "Pale as Quartz" or "Bright as the Noon Sun."
- Read the 1812 Grimm version: Compare it to the 1857 version to see how the naming conventions for names for Snow White shifted as the brothers tried to make the book more "family-friendly" and "German-centric."
The world of folklore is deep, dark, and way more interesting than a poison apple. The names are just the surface.