New name
What’s in a name?
Nothing and everything. We carry names through our lives. It’s the first question we ask each other. Names are part of our identity.
After much consideration, I am changing my name. This post explores the reasons why.
Where it started
When I was growing up, my surname was mildly unusual. Whilst there might have been others in my class at school with the same first name, nobody had the same last name as me. It marked me out as an individual. That should have been good. But…
During my school days, standing out for any reason felt like a bad idea. I looked for a sense of belonging but struggled to find it. The name was yet another thing about me that didn’t blend easily in with the others. People frequently misspelled, misheard or mispronounced my surname. Like everyone in my family, I learned to say it and immediately spell out each letter. We were so used to making corrections that we were highly surprised if anyone got it right first time.
So my name was my family name. It represented those early days of youthful hope, clumsy errors and corrections. But my identity didn’t feel fully formed. I had a feeling that somehow everything would change. And of course, it did.
New adventures, new passports
I was in a relationship for a long time and I adopted my partner’s surname when we married. This is still a common choice (stats suggest that around 70% of the time, women will change their name). It was a more typical British name which I guess was a factor in the decision. At the time, it seemed like the right option. I was very committed to the idea of becoming an ‘us’. We would be our own family with our own family name, so I did not want to hold on to my former name. I was excited to be part of something new. Nobody put pressure on me to make the change. The traditions of marriage were deeply ingrained in my psyche and the idea of keeping my own surname barely registered as an option.
Changing names is a very public display of commitment and it comes with so much admin! You have to change every legal document, tell everyone official and of course tell your friends and family. You’ll inevitably get the odd cheque or Christmas card in the old name, like postcards from a former life. I changed most legal and professional documents, including my passport which I proudly renewed for the date of my wedding so all new me would be ready to embark on the adventure of married life. I signed my new signature with a flourish. I was a real adult now!
Identity crisis
Unfortunately years later our marriage ended. In the wake of a painful break-up, I felt like my identity had been a casualty in an accident. It wasn’t just the name change; I had adapted and smoothed over so much of my personality during the relationship that I wasn’t sure what was left. For a while I stopped opening my post, staring confusedly at the name on the letters. Who was this woman anyway? Had it all been a construct? ‘Mrs’ went from a proudly worn title, to what felt like an insult when people unknowingly referred to me using that title. Despite my best efforts, I felt I had somehow failed at being a Mrs. I started to re-examine those traditions with a new perspective. Suddenly the fact that women’s names are adapted by marriage and men’s are not seemed to be an extra burden of pain that wasn’t equally distributed. Why should I be defined as Miss, Mrs or Ms anyway? How could I go about healing and fixing my identity?
People asked why I didn’t revert to my original surname. It didn’t feel right. The end of a marriage is rarely a clean business, and I spent several months, even years, not being sure of what would happen as I searched for the best way forward. I was too exhausted for admin. With security rocked to its foundation, I held on to the familiar. And although it seems very silly, the idea of changing my name at work worried me. Not many would remember my old name so some might assume I was getting married! During such a fragile time, even a misplaced ‘Congratulations’ would have hurt. And maybe there was a little stubbornness at times. It was my name now, for better or for worse (this was worst)! I couldn’t go back because I wasn’t the same person.
So I stuck with the name. Until now.
Starting over
Sometimes you wake up and something has shifted. I now want a name that I choose, that isn’t associated with anyone else or handed down to me automatically according to tradition. I want to take control of my identity and shape it for the rest of my journey. I’m neither ‘maiden’ nor ‘married woman’; I am simply me and I will no longer be defined by my marital status. And whilst I know better than to assume I won’t ever change my mind, I don’t envisage taking anyone else’s surname in the future. I’m not ashamed of my former chapters and selves — they are part of me and represent so many good and bad times in my life — but I am also ready for a new start.
I have chosen a surname that was in my family on my mother’s side. Due to the conventions of marriage, it would have dropped off the family tree. So I’ve decided to bring it back. It’s partly in testament to my grandmother too. I hope she would have been proud of me for making it to Act 3. Somehow this name just feels right. And that’s good enough for me.
Introducing Ms Jessica Richards!
