Weddings are exciting events. They are times of transition, times of hope, times of promise. As I'm gearing up for my New Year's wedding, I have all of the normal feelings of anticipation and excitement. But I've also done this before, and because of it, I am aware of one big thing that I am dreading. That one thing is the loss of my personal identity.
Don't get me wrong: I'm not changing my name. I didn't the first time, and I won't this time. I know too much about how that practice began, what it meant (and what it sometimes still means) to make that choice. I'm all too aware that marriage used to be an exchange of property, said property being the bride who was literally purchased or sold (hence dowries, bride prices, etc.). The bride's name change would symbolize the change in her ownership. Often she would not only lose her last name, but her first name too, "Introducing, Mr. and Mrs. George Smith!" The wife would become a person without her own identity: simply the Mrs. to a man with a full identity left intact.
This passing on of property is the same reason at weddings we still, more times than not, have the father walk the bride down the aisle and we still ask the question, "Who gives this woman to this man?" Yes, it is still a real and active part of our weddings that the ownership of the bride is passed on from one man to another. In case you were wondering, that, too, will not be part of our ceremony. Many people tell me that the question and the tradition no longer mean that. But what else can that question possibly mean? I am not the possession of my father, something he could therefore "give" to another man. At fifty years of age, having supported myself and having raised my kids on my own for many years now, the very idea of being my father's possession is preposterous. But even when I was young, I would have balked at the idea. I hope to God we have moved past the idea that children are simply possessions of their parents, objects that parents can "give" to anyone.
People will also tell me that changing one's name to that of one's husband is no longer a symbol of female ownership or possession. I believe that for many it is not and I do not question their decision to change their names. But I also know that my decision NOT to change my name will be met with by anger on the part of some people. The first time round, I cannot tell you how many people turned to my husband and said, "You LET her keep her own name?" And that in itself is pretty telling, don't you think? Who was he to "let" or "refuse to let" me do something that was about me and my identity? My answer, of course, was always the same, "And I let him keep his, too. Lucky man!"
But despite the decisions David and I have made for an equal partnership, decisions that state that we will not continue to honor symbols and rites that at any time were signs of spousal possession, I know that people will question and be bothered by both the decision not to be given away and the decision to keep my name, ALL of my name. And so, despite the fact that we have made these choices together (as I told David, I was more than willing to adopt his last name as part of my own if he would take mine as part of his: he declined saying his name was part of his heritage, part of his past, part of his history, part of his identity... hm. Imagine that?), there will be people who will not accept it. I am dreading the first Christmas card that we receive addressed to "Mr. and Mrs. David Louttit." I am dreading the first phone call that asks me if I am Mrs. Louttit. I am dreading the conversations I will have to have with people at work and in other places where I will have to explain over and over that at 50 years of age, my heritage and my history, my past and my identity also matter to me and that I would be giving up a great deal to part with them. I am a published author with this name; I am active, socially, politically and spiritually in the larger community using this name; I have served as a pastor with this name for twenty two years. I am proud to be part of my family of origin and I value the name connection to my parents and grandparents. These, too, are a big part of my identity and parts I don't feel I need to sacrifice in the process of joining with another person in marriage. I am dreading the constant need to claim my identity as my own, the constant need to defend a choice that is really David's and mine to make.
Of course, I could potentially thwart all of that by stating that I want to continue the connection to my kids that our shared last name maintains (they have a hyphenated last name, half of which is mine), and no doubt I will fall back on this also-important-answer at some point in time. But it is just a part of the truth of the decision.
I'm certain that in every union of people there are things that one may dread or fear. This is mine. And I guess I am hoping that by putting it out there in this post, perhaps I will limit, just a bit, the hassle that will come my way as a result. As I said, I do not judge others' decisions to come together in their last names. I understand that sharing the same last name can be an important symbol of unity for many people and since traditionally the name taken has been that of the man, that it just becomes easier for many to practice that tradition. I also understand that for many women, "wife" is the primary identity that they happily claim. But my hope is that others will also understand and respect the decisions we are making that are best for our marriage as well as for the rest of my family. The world is full of diversity and difference. This is a difference we are choosing. And I hope it can be met with respect or at least tolerance.
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