Mulling over this topic in the last few days, I’ve come to learn that most people seem to hold very strong convictions regarding the issue of maiden names and whether or not a woman should renounce her surname to adopt her husband’s.
There are women who base their convictions upon solid, feminist ideals; women are marrying much later, building up a professional career attached to their original names and don’t see how a man’s name should have any more importance or significance than their own. Then there are women who nestle in the reverence for tradition, accusing others of being too radical or too sensitive, romantic or nostalgic about the idea of taking their husbands’ surnames and feeling warm and fuzzy about one day seeing their shiny, new names printed elegantly on the front of a wedding invitation.
Asking my male friends of their opinions, I’ve learnt also that there is no lack of men delicate about this issue, considering it to be deeply insulting and claiming that a woman rejecting her husband’s name would be an absolute deal breaker. This comes with little surprise of course; very few men seem to have detached themselves from the primitive fixation with marking just about anything. Climbing the Great Wall earlier this year, I remember watching almost every man in my tour group determinedly scribbling their names on the ancient bricks with thick, black marker pens. One of them, with a good humoured self-awareness, joked that he was waiting for me to turn away so that he could later pee on it. I still don’t doubt today that given the privacy, he might’ve actually done just that.
Today we see various alternatives to the tradition, with some women choosing to use their husbands’ names in their social lives and their maiden names in their professional. Some couples meet halfway and hyphenate their names, while others even blend the two names together to create an entirely new one. Then of course, some women choose to keep their maiden names altogether. However, with all these alternatives arise some very obvious complications, and as for the feminists who passionately argue (and quite understandably) that gender equality cannot be achieved until naming practices are ‘equal’, one cannot help but imagine the conundrums; how can we achieve this in a practical sense?
With separate surnames, there is the dilemma surrounding which one would be given to their children. Blended names not only require a good amount of creativity if your names are something other than Jones or Smithfield, they can also take away the resonance of cultural and ethnic heritage. As for hyphenated names, at which point would you finally stop linking name after name? Imagine a few generations down the track, signing your name on the dotted line only to have it spill right off the page. Our names, whether or not we choose to deny it, play a large role in identifying who we are, but with all the complexities nowadays, would it be so outrageous if we all just changed our names to our first names followed by the digits of our drivers’ licences?
In the end, it just comes down to compromise. At the moment, I plan on keeping my surname, not because of heated feminist ideals but because of how strongly I identify myself as being part of my family. As for the potential complications, I will cross that bridge when I come to it.
Good article!
My husband was rather surprised when I said I’d take his name. My reasoning: one, I like the aesthetics of Meadows as a name, and two, I’d grown sick of my maiden name, Grahame (with an e on the end!) being mispelled on every. single. official. document. ever.
That being said, I’d also made myself a promise much earlier in life: if I became an author as Grahame, I’d be Grahame forever. As things turned out, I didn’t until after I became a Meadows. But if things had been different, or I didn’t like my husband’s name, I’d never have changed.
I married in May this year and took my husband’s surname.
I was actually rather mortified when some people attacked me for doing so.
As a freelance writer, editor, and someone who uses my name as a part of my career, I was told it was a death wish.
I’m happy to report that it didn’t stifle my career, in fact, it’s continued on better than ever before. That, of course, has nothing to do with my surname. It’s all to do with the amount of work I put in. And, in all honesty, I would rather that my work speak for itself, not my surname.
At the end of the day, it’s a personal choice and there is no right or wrong decision. I loved the opportunity to take on a new name, and a new beginning. It was like a fresh start. I’m also one of those old romantics that likes the idea of sharing a name with my husband, and perhaps down the track my children. And I’m also a very strong, independent and ballsy kind of lady.
I still feel very much a part of my own family – of course I will, it’s their blood running through my veins – but I’m also lucky enough to belong to a new one.
People, especially in the surname debate, tend to focus on loss – loss of identity, loss of character, loss, loss, loss when they could just as easily focus on gain – gain of family, gain of unity, gain, gain, gain.
Five and a half months on, I can tell you that changing my surname has not altered the way anyone has thought of me or interacted with me. I can tell you that it has not really changed my life in any way at all, apart from filling in some change of name forms. I am the exact same person I always was, and always will be.
Foz, you are right, Meadows is a very nice sounding name!
Sandi it’s great to hear that it didn’t compromise your sense of identity. For me though I feel that it would and this could be because my surname is unique only to my family, so the idea of changing it to a more generic one bothers me.
In Chile, families’ names are very important, so I guess I’ve taken these cultural attitudes. It is very important to me that my achievements will be associated with my family’s name.
Against the feminist argument of keeping ‘your’ surnames – is not your current surname that of your father’s? How will reconcile this?
Its time everyone knew their place and not try to subvert nature.