After August 10, 2013, my full name will be Margaret Elaine Smeltzer Miller.
I've thought about this for a long time. While some people have always known what they will do, the name change decision was, for me, a big deal.
Let me say this now: My name does not make me who I am.
I am not less of a feminist for adding my fiance's last name to my own, nor would our marriage and future family have been less united had I decided not to add his name.
The question of whether or not I would change my name has been fraught with indecision (not the norm for me) and many bigger questions of identity, family, and experience. "What's in a name" is, in fact, a lot. As strange as it might sound, it actually has been a bit of a journey to arrive at this decision. Along the way, I asked many others for their thoughts on the matter. My grandmother, wise soul, told me that her own decision to change her name (over fifty years ago) resulted from the realization that either way, she would have a man's name: her father's, or her husband's. In that light, it made more sense to share a name with her husband than to share one with her father, given her family dynamics and life circumstances. While my situation is different, the story caused me to ask what I might be saying or implying by keeping my name. Is it simply a statement against the patriarchal tradition of women as property? (Which, in my opinion, is a valid reason to keep one's name.) Is it a strong connection to my family of origin? Perhaps, but I've always felt most similar to my maternal grandmother's family. Other than halfheartedly considering changing my last name to Brenneman, this line of thinking didn't get me far.
I also talked to my violin instructor, who legally took her husband's name but uses her name entirely in all her professional life. In her case it makes sense, because she completed her master's degree in violin performance and travelled around Europe performing music before getting married. I have nowhere near that degree of name recognition as a musician, so I won't use my name professionally for that reason. However, I might use my name professionally simply because I have accumulated my own series of memories, accomplishments, and recognitions as Meg Smeltzer. They may not be notable to the musical world as a whole, but they are significant to me.
Another way to say it is this: I am not overly attached to my last name, but I have collected my twenty years' worth of identity under this name. Having four names feels the most right, out of all the options, because it acknowledges my past identity while preparing for the future identity that is implicit in forming a new family.
I also want to refute some aspects of the name-changing conversation that have been stifling, unhelpful, or just plain wrong to me. First of all, some of the pressure stems from a belief that a shared name somehow represents your family unity, or lack thereof.
A quote from Scrubs illustrates it with humor.
Carla: "I've been thinking, I might not change my name after we get married. It's part of my identity, you know?"
Turk: "That's fine, honey, we'll just be one of those couples where the husband and wife don't love each other."
In all seriousness, though, I believe this mindset is actually very prevalent in some circles (in some cases, perhaps subconsciously). And it just is not true. My marriage will not be more or less loving, protected, and cherished because of our shared names.
Let me also say this: I do not in any way look down upon or undermine other women's decisions regarding this topic. What is right for me should not be interpreted as automatically right for anyone else (and vice versa). Although, to be honest, I do sometimes feel a little twinge of disappointment when I see other women changing their names on facebook following their weddings. I'll always give a little cheer for those who love their name enough to take a stand and keep it.
Recently, another point that came to light for me relates to the history of name-changing. I have long understood that this tradition comes from a time when women were owned, dependent, subordinate. The idea of dedicating to this tradition something so personal as my name was abhorrent. However, I realized that all cultures have customs relating to names and how they evolve, and a big reason for this is simplicity. We have to have a way to organize ourselves as a society, or else nobody would know who was related to whom. So maybe, just maybe, I can allow myself to see my own name-addition as a natural way to be associated with my families, and less connected to a past assumption that my husband will hold the position as head of our household, controller of my time and resources, ultimate decision-maker, and divine liaison.
In summary, my plan for the future: I'll add another name to my original three. I'll call myself whatever I want. You can call me whatever you want. Just not Mrs. Daniel Miller.
