Recently, I was confronted by some fellow feminists ranting about people calling them Mrs. Whatever. I found this odd since they had in fact taken their husbands’ last names. When it comes to titles I can understand someone being offended by not being referred to as Dr., Colonel, President, whatever. I can even understand married women who have not taken their husbands’ name being ticked at people calling them Mrs. Whatever, but in this woman had chosen to take her husband’s name and still was offended when people called her Mrs. Whatever. What’s that all about?
I think when a woman gets married it is compeletely up to her what she does with her last name. She can keep hers, take his, hyphenate it, whatever. I chose to take my husband’s last name for a number of reasons. Personally, I knew myself, and I knew I might struggle with the whole “leaving my family to make a family with him” concept because I’m very close to my family. I felt that by changing my name I would be making a very real statement that John (and now our puppy Roskoe) is my new immediate family. I think taking his name helps me see more tangibly that we have become one in Christ. It’s a physical proclamation of that fact. And then there’s the much more superficial reason that I had always since I was in middle school been looking forward to finding out what my new name would be.
I cannot lie though. When it came down to it, changing my name was surprisingly traumatic. When I held my new driver’s liscence in my hand, my eyes grew wide. I had never seen my new name in official government print before. Sure I had doodled the new signature in my Intercultrual Communication notes, but this was official. I was this new person. It became even more jarring when I filled out the paperwork to change my name on my social security card. I left that office thinking that in 10-15 days I would no longer exists. The person I had been for 21 years was going to be gone. Now, I know that government records of my old self don’t show that I “disappeared.” I know that it simply shows that I got married and took my husband’s name. Even though it sounded crazy in my head, I couldn’t help but feeling like I was losing a part of myself.
I came to my senses. It’s gotten easier with time. I can sign it now without forgetting how to spell it. I can say it without pausing to think, “Now what’s my last name again?” It still gets me that I’m at the beginning of the alphabet on the roll sheet in class instead of in the middle. When other people say it or I see it in print somewhere else, I have to double-take. Maybe someday, it will be the other way around.
P.S. At one point in our engagement John suggested that I hyphenate my name since my family is so important to me. I thought that was so sweet, but I decided against it because I didn’t want a long ridiculous mouthful of a last name.
