I remember the first time I told my mother I am a feminist. Although the standard pieces of imagery that normally accompany a statement like this have floated out of my memory (what I was wearing, where I was standing), I still vividly remember the conversation and her reaction to my “coming out.” She asked me if my boyfriend and I got married, would I change my name? At that time, my parents and I had only just gotten to the point where we can have “adult” discussions where I actually feel they appreciate my contributions without brushing them off as responses from “The Child.” So, I was honest with them despite feeling like I was disturbing the peace. “I’m not changing my name. It’s awesome!”
What I really wanted them to know was that if I changed my name I’d feel like I sacrificed a part of my identity. To me, names seem to be the only glue that binds us to all past, present, and future permutations of our selves. Well…names and DNA and possibly lots of other things, but why narrow it down? I really wanted them to know that because I was adopted, I have no actual blood relation and that my name is one of the only ways for me to show I’m “in the club.” I wanted them to know that it was hard growing up without knowing who I really am or where I came from until I realized that I can pick who I am. I also could pick where I came from but would just be weird….I wanted to say all this and more but instead it came out as, “Are you kidding me? My name would make me sound like I’m running an Italian pizza kitchen! Oh look, here comes Mama Maria Grandinetti!” To give you some real insight, I yelled that with my best interpretation of an Italian accent. It wasn’t pretty but the conversation was already going downhill. At this point, my Mom said, “Just don’t go too far with that feminism stuff….” About a millisecond later, my Dad jumped in with the sound of true reason, “It’s just not the way things are. The woman takes the man’s name.”
Now, at that point in the discussion, I had a mixture of feelings brewing. Had this been any other person, flyer, poster, commercial, whatever, I probably would have gone all feminist on their asses. But, given that it was my own parents saying this, I let it go. I still don’t know whether I should have done that, but I think I have to pick and choose my battles with them or we’d be in a constant feudal state, haha, get it? In all seriousness, my parents have both seen a lot and my articulation of it does not lend enough credit. My father was born in Hungary in 1946. What is more interesting is how he got to America. Here’s the low-cal version: communist invasion, bombings, hiding under a piano, escape, running in fields to get to Austria, communists shooting flare guns to see their targets, bribing border guards with jewelry in hollowed out loaves of bread. Once he got here, he was met with disdain and Ameri-centrism. He was 11 and was forced to go to school with young children because he didn’t know English and the other students hated him for it. It is amazing to me that he was able to rise above that, finish his education, own a company, and now be the Executive Director of a non-profit organization.
My Mom had a completely different childhood, but by no means –Ism free. She was born in 1945 in Portsmouth, Virginia. You haven’t heard of it, because there’s not a lot going on there. But, in 1945, there was quite a bit going on. My mother never knew her father. She was raised in a household with 3 generations of lovely (but fierce) ladies. One of the hardest things about that was that her mother, Marie, and Marie’s friend, a man, worked the exact same job but he made two times the amount she did simply because he was a man. Now, this idea of salary inequalities is no stranger to us, but to see it in action in a world where my grandmother’s salary was feeding an entire family is hurtful to me. It’s real. But, my mother faced other challenges as she grew up. Brown vs. Board didn’t happen for another 9 years after my Mom was born (and it wasn’t enforced for years after that). She went to a segregated school and that was “the way things were.” She told me a story about how she went to a department store with her mother and she wandered off into another section. She met a little girl and they started playing and walking around and my grandmother caught them and just about died because my mom was holding hands with a black girl. That kind of embedded racism and sexism has to be hard to overcome, but my Mom did it. She co-owned a company with my Dad and took over when he left the company. She landed the big accounts and bought huge trucks all by herself. Then, she decided to sell the company to stay home with me.
I find myself examining my parents’ histories and their choices and am amazed. They’ve given me so much more than I would have gotten otherwise, but in reality, it’s this foundation I am most grateful for. But, I can’t help but end up in a certain ethical dilemma. How is it, that my parents, who have both overcome so much, can even suggest that I change my name to sound like a crotchety, old Italian woman?
There are deeper questions too, like, why did my Mom think she had to sell her company just to raise me? Her articulation is that she waited a long time for me and when I finally came around she wanted to be with me full-time. But isn’t the underlying assumption that she can’t do both based on an archaic and sexist ideology? But alas, that’s for another day. Right now, we need to settle my identity crisis and I’m not sure how to do this. Do I stand resolved and refuse to give up even a tiny facet of my personal identity or do I give in to my parents to be closer to the idea of “tradition”? Is it really that big a deal to change a name? I mean, Prince did it! I have never been someone who does something because I’m supposed to….My Mom can definitely attest to that. So, for now it’s Marie Eszenyi to you and quite possibly, for always…unless it becomes Dr. Marie Eszenyi. 😉
Post! Would you change your name? Would you be ok if your partner didn’t change his/her name? Is there a middle ground?
ShoutOut! James Madison University 
I love this! I agree with you about not changing my name, I love it and would never want another. I had this same discussion with my mother (who’s also from Portsmouth, which is where I grew up!) which also included me telling her that I wanted both she and my dad to walk me down the aisle and she was quite taken aback and didn’t understand why I was so against tradition. But when I explained my reasoning (which included the fact that Hillary Rodham Clinton didn’t change her name until well into her marriage and only for political reasons) she seemed to fully understand. While it’s important to hear your parents out, I think that ultimately it’s your choice and you should stick to your guns.
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Haha, I like that we have some connections to base this topic on! It’s interesting you bring up walking down the aisle. I mentioned that I would want both of my parents to walk me also and my Mom was basically saying, “Why wouldn’t I do that?” It is interesting to me that in so many ways she is progressively minded but in others, like this name issue, I feel like she picks and chooses based on what she wants and not what I want.
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I think this is an amazingly interesting topic. I’ve thought about this quite a few times as well. On the one hand, I’m not particularly fond of my last name; no one understands it the first time, it’s misspelled, easy to make fun of, take your pick. On the other, my dad’s family comes with such a history, and I am so unspeakably proud of them.
The romantic side of me does understand the tradition in a way; when you initiate that new union, new family, whatever, with someone you love, it makes sense to pick one name, to symbolize your togetherness if nothing else (obviously throughout history the weaker sex got to make the sacrifice).
Being 75% gay, chances are I may never have to actually make this choice, but there don’t seem to be any easy options. My aunt hyphenated her name, and it seems to have caused her more trouble than it’s worth.
I think the important thing is to never forget where you came from, whatever you call it.
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Thanks for your post! I think it’s interesting that we talk about name changes in a vacuum, but I think you’re right. What if you’re not forced to make that choice? Or, what if you are but either you don’t like your last name or your partner’s last name sucks? It’s interesting to think of what you would do in context. I like that you said we shouldn’t forget where we come from. I think maintaining a singular nominal identity is one way of doing that. But, I guess there are other ways too.
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On the one hand: I have the same last name as a Harry Potter character… why would I give that up?
On the other hand: As a lesbian, it is going to be hard enough to prove that my future children have two female parents without throwing in two different last names, ya dig?
So while I like the idea of UNITY, I also want my name to be representative of ME. After all, it’s the only thing most people will ever know of you.
I have a recently married “sister” (former foreign exchange student) in germany whose husband took HER last name and also wore a ring during their engagement. I love this concept of marriage more than I can express. How frustrating to have someone so close to you tell you “the woman should take the man’s last name because thats just HOW THINGS ARE”.
After all, doesn’t it mean so much more to discuss your names together? To create a partnership comprised of the coming together of two indivisuals rather than of a tradition that may or may not mean anything to wither of you?
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Thanks for posting! Granger is a cool last name. It is also the last name of a great Potter Pundit (check him out) 🙂 But, I can see why it’s hard to figure that situation out. I’m not really sure there’s any way to prove that children come from two female parents solely by a last name. What would the mechanism be? Hyphenation could mean a plethora of things. So, I’m not sure how that would work. I like the idea of the man taking the woman’s name. You can still have the unity element but it is a role reversal that acts as a check to any rooted patriarchy inherent in name changing.
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