In the end it was a surprisingly easy decision to make.
We were pronounced man and wife and from that day forth I was known by my husband’s surname. I preferred the sound of it over my family name and the cultural connections and connotations were appealing to me, as well. Never once did it cross my mind that by taking his name I was bowing to the patriarchy and declaring myself property. Nor did I for a moment believe that I was denying my heritage and family or abandoning my identity or independence. It would take so much more than a change of name to accomplish that.
It was simply a matter of preference and a way to announce to the world that I was making a life with this man, my partner in name as well as spirit. I did, however, decide to retain my family’s name for professional purposes. It seemed logical and D had no qualms about me doing so. Professionally, my name was my brand. It had a reputation attached; a reputation that I didn’t want to disown or have to rebuild. And for some of my interstate colleagues, my name was the only way they knew me. Why would I want to start from scratch?
There came a point, however, at which I decided to change my professional name. For a short time there was some confusion at work but after a while colleagues realised that I wasn’t a new employee, come to wreak havoc but the same person, asking for the same information and supplying the same results. My reputation didn’t suffer. I had other ways of undermining that.
It wasn’t about making a new start or building a new identity. It was, quite simply, done for convenience. I didn’t want to have to go through the rigmarole of proving my identity at the bank, each and every time I tried to bank a work related cheque. It only happened once a year but once a year was too often. So I submitted my forms to payroll and HR and from that time on, I was professionally, as well as personally, known by my husbands name.
And I believe I’m still the same person — apart from any personal growth I may have accomplished and which has nothing to do with taking his name — I was when I married.
But there are still occasions on which I am known by my family’s name.
When I’m upset with myself for making stupid, idiotic mistakes.
When I start behaving like the snotty teenager I once was.
When I pull out the only credit card from remaining from my pre-marriage days, the one that got me into way too much financial trouble, to pay for something in a particular store.
And it still sounds right but, at the same time, wrong to my ears.
Odd, really.
I guess this was just a really long-winded way of saying that adopting my husband’s surname on marriage was pretty much a non-issue. Which makes me even more mystified about the antiquated, sexist attitudes displayed in some of the responses to this article about a man wishing to take his wife’s name and the lengths to which he has to go in order to accomplish this.
This sentence from the article had me in fits of laughter…. “advertise his intention in a newspaper for four weeks” I have not laughed so hard in months.
Do you think the ad would go in the classifieds or the personal columns? Maybe it’s just a general old ad that fills in space like how there are just random ads for products and services on odd pages.
What would you write in this ad? SEX… now that I’ve got your attention I am changing my name? Hmm, not very original!
Do you need to put a phone number or something so people can call up? All the ads I’ve seen in the paper today (granted none of them have been name change ads) have had a phone number…I wonder what someone would say if they did call. No you can’t have that name? Congratulations? Can I save you money on your long distance calls?
Now, now Miss S. Slow day at work (or something)??? I have to admit that any humour I found in that guy’s situation was quite negated by the responses to the article.
And the notice would go in the Legal Notices section. Paid category, of course.
more of the “or something” going on today – I wonder what kind of people read the Legal Notices – maybe I should start! Not like I have a heap of work to do or anything.
It’s been a while since I read through them but they can provide quite an interesting perspective on life, sometimes. Heh. Perhaps I shouldn’t admit that I sometimes read the legal notices…
Farm it out, if you can… The work, that is.
I know a couple who BOTH changed their name upon marriage which I thought was rather sweet. Although they went down the hyphenated surname route which makes things complicated for the next generation (what happens when a double-barrelled surname person marries another double barreller I wonder?)
Apparently in Spain, surnames are matrilineal, when you are born you have your mother’s surname and your father’s, if you get married you drop your father’s and pick up your spouse’s surname instead.
missv: Mmm… quadruple barrelled surnames…! Which I tend to think would be unwieldy and just a bit… too much. I wonder what the logistics of living with a surname like that is and whether that’s actually still a hypothetical question? I have images now of a teacher taking the roll, stumbling over poor Oliver Smyth-Jones-Wilson-Brown’s name, while the rest of the class is heading for their next lesson…
I have tremendous admiration for couples who both choose to change their names. What a way to start married life.
When I got married I took my husband’s surname without even thinking about it. At that time (mid 1960’s) I didn’t know any women who’d kept their own family name, or that it was possible to choose. It wasn’t until twenty years later I realised that I’d actually given away part of my identity, and decided to claim it back. And what a hassle! Under N.Z. law a woman may legally use either her own family name or her husband’s, and any children are legally entitled to use either surname. But when I wanted to change back to my own name people like banks demanded proof. They asked for evidence that I was divorced and found it very difficult to accept that I might want to change back to my own name when I was still married.
I took my husband’s name without a thought, really. I don’t identify myself with my last name! And because shortly after we were married my parents divorced and both married others, giving my mother a new surname as well, it didn’t seem to be that important to “carry on” the family heritage or anything. And then there’s the likelihood that my paternal great-grandparents changed their surname when they emigrated from Sweden to the US…
I think it is a tiny bit silly to bring on a big state lawsuit over $200, but then I think it’s the principle of the thing being unequal solely based on gender. And while it’s true that businesses have to post legal notices for such changes, I’m sure the newspaper’s fees are tax-deductible or otherwise absorbed as business expenses, whereas for an individual they would not be.
Ruth: I wonder if, in twenty years time, I’ll feel like I’ve lost part of my identity by changing my name. I wonder what the banks — and other bureaucratic institutions — gain from being so obstructive. I like that they’re taking steps to protect our money but…
Henitsirk: My family have been in my hometown for over a hundred years and whenever I mentioned my surname the response was invariably “Oh, you’re one of the … “. So, whether I liked it or not, my surname was part of my identity, in my hometown at least. And that was something that I did consider when I got married — how difficult, or easy, it was going to be to give that up. In the end, it was easy. And my brother was continuing the family name with his brood, so that wasn’t a factor.
You know, I did put thought into whether I would change, mainly due to the situation at work. But there were other people in my life who made the assumption that once I was married, the name change would be automatic. My mother, for one example. If only I could break her of the habit of addressing mail to me as “Mrs D {insert surname here}. I had no qualms about taking D’s surname but I had no idea I was also changing my first name, too.