When I was young, about 7 or 8, I realized a horrendous truth: my mother's last name was not always Smith (changed for privacy purposes.) Before her marriage to my father, her last name was Johnston (also changed). She smiled and told me that when I would be married one day, I would take on my husband's name, just as she did. Quite contrary to her expectations, I began to bawl. Terror, sadness, and futility all seized me in that moment - I would never be a Smith again.
At that age, I didn't know the implications of that beyond the fact that my family's line would run out, being that my parents only had daughters and no sons. As I grew up, how I felt about the situation became easier to explain, although very few understood. I eventually dismissed my feelings as silly, thinking that I was ridiculous for worrying about something so frivolous.
College was the first time that I ever heard someone say what I had felt for all of these years: the tradition of changing the woman's name at the alter is, in a way, the death of her identity. I would no longer be Jess Smith; I would be an extension of my husband, no longer myself. Although I'd never been able to put it in words, the sudden realization sent me reeling.
I do not consider myself to be a man-hating woman, nor do I believe that marriage is an oppressive institution. I have always wanted to be married; I still do. However, the fact that I must change my last name seems ridiculous to me. Why should my husband be able to keep his name while I take his? Why couldn't I just keep it? Why do I have to change myself, Jess Smith, and become an extension of a man? Am I not whole enough already?
Perhaps my view doesn't make sense to many people. Sometimes it doesn't make sense to me. And it doesn't help that I moved from New Jersey to Tennessee, where people don't seem to understand exactly where I'm coming from. I even have difficulty explaining it to my boyfriend. I don't mean to insult anyone. I just want to know why. Why must I give up everything I've ever been when I'm married? Why would I have to be Mrs. Reynolds, when I've never been a Reynolds to begin with? Isn't it enough to love someone, to be Mrs. Jess Smith and Mr. Bill Reynolds, without taking his name? I know that my in-laws would frown on me if I kept my name. I don't want that to happen. I want everyone to be happy. But why must I be a Mrs. Bill Reynolds. Am I not a whole person on my own? Can I not be Mrs. Jess Smith, or at least Mrs. Jess Reynolds if I do decide to take his name?
That's another thing that bothers me: when people say Mr. & Mrs. Bill Reynolds. There is no woman named Bill Reynolds, so why call her that? Her name is Mrs. Bill Reynolds, thank you very, very much. And why does it have to be Mr. & Mrs. anyway? I admit it, I'm that person who writes Mrs. Anna & Mr. Bobby Williams on cards, or Aunt Rachel and Uncle Robbie. It's my own personal revolution against the way that women's identities are absorbed by their man's. It just doesn't seem fair to me.
I know this is rather long, but this is something that truly bothers me. I'm not quite sure why it does. Does anybody else feel this way, too? Does anyone feel the opposite? Give me feedback, if you like. Thank you for reading.
London
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