reclaiming wife

Posts Tagged ‘Changing Your Name’

Everyone has an issue or two that grabs them in the gut, and make them want to shake the world and get it to change. For me, it’s the family name issue. It’s not that I think there is one solution for everyone. It’s that it angers me that women are left to deal with the whole complex situation, while men get a free pass. You change your name, it’s your mourning process. You keep your name, it’s you fighting relatives until the end of time. You hyphenate, it’s you who caused the clunky solution and stripped your partner of his pure family name. (Note: We need a Remember The Lesbians post on this one…) Men who change their names have a special place in my heart (you can see two past posts on the subject here). Today’s post by Dan (Doucet) Nicholson, takes it a step further. He not only shares the burden with his partner, he willingly makes a choice that is profoundly personally difficult. On behalf of women everywhere, correcting people who address them by their husband’s last name, Dan, I salute you. Welcome to the team.

Meg

Equality. It’s a very broad stroke. For myself, it means that everyone is equal regardless of their race, gender, sexual orientation, disabilities—anything. It’s a goal that I firmly believe in, and I believe that the world would be a much better place if all people were treated as equals.

I’ve been dating a wonderful woman for nearly four years. She is my best friend and I would do anything for her, as she would for me. Early on in our relationship we discussed the topic of equality and what it meant to both of us. In particular, we discussed equality in a relationship and the importance of teamwork, communication, and cooperation—a small list of values that I would hope is relevant to every relationship.

She and I talked about marriage a lot in our relationship; it was something we wanted, but wasn’t feasible at the time. We were living in a city with little job prospects (a simple dishwashing job had over two hundred applicants—seriously). In order to build our family, our only option was to move from the city we loved and look elsewhere.

When I started my professional career, my dream was to work at an advertising agency. The one thing I understood very well about advertising is that it’s all about brand—personally and professionally. During our talks about marriage, we discussed a family name (something that usually arises when a couple talks about getting married). We talked about each option in great detail:

She takes my last name: The tradition here is that she is handed off as her father’s property to my property. While she values traditions, we both hated this thought. She isn’t my property, she’s my partner.

Hyphenate: This is somewhat modern, but what happens when our son/daughter meets Jane Doe-Smith and they get married. They’ll be named HerName-MyName-Doe-Smith. No dice.

Keep our names: This is another somewhat-modern solution but for us, we wanted one family name. We didn’t want to have to choose which last name our child takes, leaving the other parent as a bit of an outcast. Not only that, but practically it leaves something to be desired—the rules have become far more stringent when traveling to other countries with children; the parent who shares the child’s last name would have to provide written consent.

Create a new name: This is another modern solution that’s picking up, but our last names do not merge well. That, and we hated that idea. Continue reading Changing Your Sir-Name

For those of us that don’t take the name-change-after-marriage route (or the traditional last name for children route) life can be complicated. Since as a society we’re only starting to navigate new rules to go with new naming decisions, the results can be decidedly odd—like when I get mail addressed to Mrs. David Keene. Which, it’s very sweet that they tried, but they also got two out of three things wrong. Today’s post from Laura Holway is about only changing her middle name and the muddle that caused. It’s also so badass that I sent shouty emails to the staff about it the second I read it. The murky waters of name change. Let’s discuss. (P.S. You can see Laura’s crazy-amazing artist wedding right here.)

Meg

On May 14, 2011, my husband Ben and I were married in the little theatre where we’ve collaborated on performance-making over the years. Out of the deal I got a hilarious and creative life partner, an extension of family that vaguely resembles the United Nations, and a brand new middle name.

The middle name part was a bit of a surprise given the conclusiveness of our We’re Not Changing Names discussion. Ben and I like our respective last names—together and apart. We’ve made a lot of art and lived a lot of life with our names stamped on it. But, one day a couple months before the wedding, it struck me that I could write in whatever I wanted on the “name after marriage” line of our marriage license. And, mutually motivated by a desire to mark my marriage transition while keeping my last name and to get rid of a middle name I wasn’t particularly fond of, I changed it. To Ben’s last name. I gut-checked a solid dozen times as I contemplated the change, but it just felt inexplicably right.

As with most decisions, though, there’s always some kind of result, not necessarily explained with a label as simple as “positive” or “negative.” I’m here to report that it’s lonely in the partial name-change camp: you changed something, but didn’t come out with the typical post-wedding result. Everyone’s confused. And, if you get really excited about your new middle name and change it on Facebook, you’ve officially lost everyone. Now it’s not just your Gramma sending you incorrectly addressed mail (Mr. & Mrs. Ben & Laura ?). Facebook assumes you suffered from dyslexia and swapped your maiden name for your married name, or that perhaps you forgot your own name altogether. And, Facebook would also like you to know that it’s partially your own fault for confusing people in the first place. You can make new rules, but sometimes you have to hand out educational fliers when you play by them.

It’s a strange mystery navigating the nuanced path of feelings that accompany a decision. I have a lot of feelings about my name, and I didn’t anticipate how strong they’d be. And, as with many very personal decisions, the world hasn’t intuited the depth of these feelings. As with every decision, regardless of how right it feels, it marks the death of what I didn’t choose. We will never be a single-name family, marked by a succinct return address stamp. And I don’t have the same name I grew up with.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my married friends and their names—a fabulous collection of brand-newly invented last names, hyphenated last names, husband’s last names, maiden names, and even partner last names that they don’t always use. I love them all. I love that these names represent decisions—the simultaneous embracing of one thing and saying “no” to something else. Maybe we’re united by the strength of the gut-check. Continue reading Reclaiming Wife: The Middle (Name)

While you can obviously be a feminist and change your last name, not changing your last name is making a conscious choice that this is your fight. It’s also choosing to fight the good fight for a long, long time. While I hope we get to a point where women choosing to not change their last names, or to pass on their last names to their children, is unremarkable (or even admired), we’re sure as shit not there yet. I say this as someone in her fourth year of marriage, who is still constantly correcting people who passive-aggressively address the fact that the members of this household kept their names. If there is one message that I think needs shouting from the rooftops, it’s this one: you can be a family and have different last names. In fact, having different last names has zero effect on your being a family (other than making you a family living your values, if name change is one of your personal issues). It’s not even new. The Spanish do it. In Quebec it’s illegal NOT to do it. And blended families do it all the time. So with that, here is Kari Tipton talking about becoming a stepmom and keeping her name.

Meg

I knew I was in it for the long haul with my partner well before we even started talking about marriage. One of the amazing things that my single-dad sweetheart did was tell me on our third date that I wasn’t going to meet his kids for at least six months—and as a child of divorced parents and blended families, I was very appreciative of that. Part of this appreciation stemmed from my own issues—I sure didn’t want to contribute to any one else’s abandonment complexes, nor did I want to screw up his kids in any other possible way. Mostly, though, I didn’t want to learn to love these kids and then never see them again.

[[TOP SECRET: One of the things that stepparents never talk about is the terror that your partner will leave, and take their children with them. That you don't have any legal rights to maintain a relationship with a child who might not like you at first, and that may require more work than you'd ever dream of investing to grow. It’s better to ignore this feeling most of the time. But when I met his kids, I wanted to make sure I was meeting them because they were going to be part of my life for the long haul, just like my partner was going to be.]]

After six or seven months of dating I met his kids as “Dad’s friend,” slowly progressed to staying over weekends, and even more slowly moved in. After about two years together the younger boy turned to me and said, “When you marry dad, you’ll be a ‘HISLASTNAME’ too!”

Oh my. You know, there’s a startling thrill in the tacit approval of your relationship by a seven-year-old. But then I had to explain to him about my name (T) and his name (G)—because I was really not going to change it.

Me: “Well, I don’t think I’ll change my name to G.”
Him: “Why not!?”
Me (terrified he thought I was rejecting wee seven-year old him and his daddy, striving for calmness): “Well, you really like being a G, right?”
Him: “Yes.”
Me: “And you love having family who are also named G, right?”
Him: “Yeah!”
Me: “Well, I’ve been a T for so long, and I love my T family, and I love being a T just as much as you love being a G.”
Him: “So….”
Me: “So, I’m going to stay a T, even if we get married.” (Secret thrills for saying it out loud to someone not my partner for the first time.)

Continue reading Reclaiming Wife: Names and Blended Families

We’ve got a really great ongoing discussion here at APW about what it means to change your name (or not) when you get married. We’ve discussed changing it as a feminist choice, choosing not to change it (and not being quiet about it), changing your name and then changing it back, and even men changing their last name to yours. And just when I thought we’d exhausted all possible angles of this conversation (who am I kidding? As if that could happen…) we received a post from Rachel Wilkerson about the implications of changing your name in the digital age. And guys, it hadn’t even occurred to me that page ranking could now be a factor in this discussion. So here’s Rachel, giving the name change discussion a twenty-first century spin, highlighting the fact that this conversation never seems to get any easier, but damn if it doesn’t get more interesting.

—Maddie

Unlike a lot of women, the choice to change my name when I got married was a pretty easy one. Or at least it was until the internet happened.

Back in 2010, I was just your average happy, healthy, slightly promiscuous twenty-four-year-old girl with a blog about health, happiness, and, uh, romantic adventures. After I retired my college sorority girl blog, I started a new one about girls gone healthy (…and maybe gone wild). While I loved it, I was starting to feel a bit stifled by the niche and wanted to break out a bit. It was time for a new site name and URL. After going around and around with a good friend and fellow blogger, I finally decided to just make my full name my URL. “This will be perfect!” I said. “It will be a strong URL no matter what I want to write about! Theoretically, I can use it forever; it would only be a problem if I were to get married!”

Notice I said “if.” Because at this point in my life, despite the fact that I was ready to find a wonderful, amazing, big relationship, it still seemed like it was a ways off. I had felt for most of my life that I’d be the perpetually single friend. And honestly, I didn’t even mind. I loved dating.

Despite the fact that I was totally cool with being single, I still knew—and had known for a long time—that if I ever did get married, the last name had to go. To begin with, my last name was my father’s last name. I didn’t have a good relationship with him (he basically abandoned me when I was young and he died when I was thirteen). I certainly wished that I had a strong tie to him or to his family to make my decision harder, but that’s not how my life worked out, and I had made peace with that. But as a young feminist, I determined that if I was going to be stuck with a man’s name—either my father’s or my future husband’s—I’d go with the man who was making a conscious choice to be in my life. I’d forgiven my father for the way he self-destructed—he had a lot of demons—but I had no qualms about replacing his last name with the last name of a man who was making a conscious and public choice to love me forever.

I was mildly concerned about my name as it was attached to my career as a writer. At the time that I was changing my URL, I had just finished turning my college blog into a book and I had an agent who was shopping a proposal around to publishers. If I sold the book, I figured, okay, I’d keep my name. I also figured that having a new husband and a book deal in the near future was literally the best problem I could ever imagine having, so I didn’t dwell on it.

So I bought the URL and started my new blog. And what happened next is honestly a little ridiculous.

The same friend who encouraged me to make my name my URL also decided to introduce me to her friend Eric, who lived in Houston. As a blogger and frequenter of Match.com, I found nothing weird about meeting people on the internet, so I was fine with it. I emailed him. He emailed me right back. There was flattery. There were the right pop culture references. There was the right amount of exclamation points (not too few, not too many) and he didn’t use “lol” as punctuation like the last guy I had dated. I emailed back. Then I couldn’t stand it and I just IMed him. “What are you doing?” I said. “Oh nothing, just reading an email from my future wife,” he said. Which would have been cheesy or creepy (or both) if it weren’t actually true.

So after that first IM, changing my URL became an issue way sooner than I expected thanks to two little things that were completely out of my control: love and Google. Continue reading Changing Your Name in the Age of Google

It’s that time again. The time where we get to discuss name changing, or not, from a feminist perspective (part of our ongoing series of posts on the subject). APW has a 100% feminist staff, but we have a pretty even mix between those of us who didn’t change our names (Maddie and me) and those who did (the rest of the crew). I would argue that this blend is pretty typical of the current young(ish) feminist generation. Because of that, I think it’s important to discuss why and how changing your name after marriage can be a feminist choice.  And this post from Taylor Behnke puts name changing in a better feminist context than I’ve ever seen.

In about nine months I will celebrate my twenty-second birthday. Three days after that I will graduate college. That same day I will become completely financially independent from my parents for the first time. Three weeks later I will get married. Two weeks after that, I will (hopefully) start my first full-time “real world” job. Along with marrying what we now call young, I’m throwing myself into a pressure-cooker of big, weighty decisions, knowing I will come out the other side a newly minted independent adult woman.

So when it came to making the adult decisions surrounding my marriage, like changing my name, I didn’t want to be quiet about it. I talked to my fiancé, Luke, about what would become of our names after the wedding. When I expressed reservations about traditionally taking his name without thinking about why, he encouraged me to keep my given name if that would make me happy—but that wasn’t what I wanted.

See, with all the big rites of passage that I will participate in around the time of my wedding, I wanted a symbolic representation of the new person I will be on the other side. Plenty of cultures allow (or even require) people to assume new names upon rites of passage to mark their new identities (see Catholic Confirmations, Buddhist Shinbyu ceremonies, fraternity initiations, and so on).

I know many women choose to keep their given names because they feel that those names are tightly woven into their identities. But my given name almost feels like a cocoon I need to shed to feel truly independent and self-sufficient in this world. I’m going to be doing a whole lot of transcending in the months leading up to and after the wedding, while assuming a bunch of new identities—college graduate, wife, badass independent adult—and I want a new symbolic identity to match. Marriage just gives me a good legal excuse to do so.

So we talked. Would I come up with a new name just for myself? Would we combine our names to form a new one? Would we pick an arbitrary name for both of us? (I lobbied really hard for becoming Mr. and Mrs. Awesome, you guys, but it just didn’t stick with him.) Ultimately, I decided I wanted to share names with Luke, and he is quite attached to the name he has, so I’ll be taking his. I’m moving my current last name to the middle to carry that identity with me as well. Woo hoo! Choices that feel good for us! Success, right? Continue reading What Should We Call Me? Changing My Name as a Feminist Choice

Planning: Journeys

The call from a restricted number came through at 9am. I was brushing my teeth and running late for work, so I ignored it at first. Then the phone rang again. I spat, picked up.

“Can I speak with…Med..de..line?” A telemarketer warning light was flashing in my head.

“Speaking,” I snapped, grabbing mouthwash.

“This is your immigration officer about your interview last week.” I swallowed a bunch of mouth germs in surprise. “It’s about your name. Why did you not keep your name? Why use Elliott?” I want to capture for the record how surreal that moment was, to be called by a representative of the U.S. government and quizzed about my name, by someone who hadn’t even taken the time to check how “Madeline” is pronounced. In my bathroom. In my pajamas.

Let’s back up. My mother didn’t change her name after marriage and I never thought I’d change mine. The appeal of a new one, which crept up on me during our engagement, took me quite by surprise. I actually liked the idea of being a Mrs. Brandon. I’d keep my own name for work, so it wasn’t a loss, so much as… a bonus. But while that worked for me personally, I wasn’t so thrilled about popping out only Master or Miss Brandons if we ended up having babies. Continue reading Madeline: Game of Names