So yeah, I’m getting married this summer. I still feel a twinge in the pit of my stomach when it’s just layed out like that. I’ve been with my boyfriend for 12 years. 12 years. That’s practically half my life at this point (I’ll be 31 this spring). Whenever I hear of someone that’s getting married to a person they’ve known since they were teenager, I question it, as if they don’t know what they’re doing or they haven’t lived enough to make a choice like that so early. Yet it makes perfect sense for me to be with the person I started dating my first year of college. Today I’m not interested in getting into the why-did-it-take-us-so-long, I’d really rather think about the whole name change thing.
I went to an all women’s college. It was one of my best choices. I loved it. Things about it still give me shivers. It informed so much of who I am today, particularly the feminist in me. It took me a long time to figure out what kind of feminist I wanted to be: one that feels okay wearing lipstick and heels, one that doesn’t judge stay-at-home moms, one that has a sense of humor, one that is aware and can speak up when necessary. It took me a long time and I felt guilty about a lot of things until I realized the most powerful thing you can do is be yourself.
So what happens when you get married and you have to decide whether or not to change your name? I have so many conflicting conversations happening in my head. My name is my father’s name, names are patriarchal to begin with. But it’s who I’ve been my whole life. This is my identity. But by getting married I’m forming a family, a new family, shouldn’t we have the same name? But why should it be the man’s name? Why shouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it be easier for our family and any future children to all have the same name? Would it really matter if we didn’t? It’s going to piss me off every time someone writes on an envelope: Mrs. His Name. I really, really hate that. I get annoyed when telemarketers call and ask for Mrs. His Last Name. But I also used to work at a school and it really helped clarify things when kids had the same last name as their parents. His last name is fine, it’s nothing bad, just like mine isn’t. They are really normal-sounding British names. But I hate writing the capitalized letter of his last name. I like how my signature looks. I’m really lazy and probably won’t change it anyway. Should I really allow my laziness to make my decision for me (not that it hasn’t happened that way before)? I don’t like the alternatives anymore than the main option (him taking my name, a combo of our names, sharing a middle name, hyphenating, etc.). I might just end up using my current last name as a middle name, sort of a Hillary Rodham Clinton solution. But it’s not like that lasted.
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2 comments:
I didn't change my name for the first three years of my marriage. When we moved to Florida, and I dumped my old career, I subscribed to the Fuck It Bucket, and realized that although I thought I cared, I really didn't. And I don't. And while I still do a double take when someone calls me by my husband's name, and nearly every day, I answer the phone, "Hi, this is Jonna S-" instead of Jonna R-, I've found that it was far less traumatic than it needed to be, at least for me.
But then again, almost everything in my life is that way - it's never, ever as bad, or as hard or as miserable as I expect it to be. You'll figure out what's right, and remember, nothing is irrevocable.
Yeah, I definitely psych myself out for a lot of things and then come to realize it was no big deal. But figuring out what I truly want is the challenge. Once I know what that is, I think I can be comfortable with it. Thanks for being my first commenter! So exciting!
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