What's in a Name?
I finally changed my name. No, I did not opt for Princess Consuela Bananahammock. My divorce may have come through in September 2011, but only this week, with my passport due for renewal, have I bothered to officially revert to my maiden name.
This isn’t a case of me hanging on to the past. It’s simply a case of apathy and, frankly, laziness. I was a teacher when I got divorced, and I reasoned it would be an unnecessary pain training the students to suddenly call me something different. And I really didn’t fancy the paperwork. So I ignored the mild resentment felt by my family, and continued using my married name. It’s just a name, right?
Apparently not. At least, not to other people. Since announcing I was making the change, people keep saying, “Are you ok? Do you feel different? It’s the end of an era…” What?! It was the end of an era six years ago when the marriage broke up. I was not ok then. I definitely felt different. But that feels like several lifetimes ago.
The only difference now is the dent in my forehead from the constant face palms when I habitually use my old signature.
For many, it seems a name is intrinsically linked to a sense of identity. Whilst I can understand that, it’s just not something I feel. I’m me. I was me with my original maiden name, I was the same me with my married name, and I’ll still be me now that I’ve changed it back.
Yet, I’ve still bothered to change it (albeit eventually), so it can’t actually mean nothing. I’ve done it partly to appease my family, but I can’t deny the fact that I’m enjoying a renewed sense of self now that the association to the ex is no longer stamped all over my documentation, ID and bank cards. After all, doesn’t taking a man’s name hark back to benefitting from his credit rating (as women weren’t entitled to own anything of real monetary value) back in the days of yore? If anything was true of my marriage, needing or wanting the ex’s credit rating was certainly not it…
Whilst taking a husband’s name is becoming less common, I find myself part feminist, part traditionalist in this arena. I like the idea of uniting with a common name to represent that you belong together (note ‘together’, not ‘to him’). And it’s fair to say that I definitely don’t belong with my ex anymore. His new wife may well find that awkward. Three’s a crowd and all that.
So, nearly six years after the split, my name is once more the one I was born with. And, though I try to maintain that it is just a name, this makes me smile.
Of course, having finally completed the mountain of paperwork and phone calls involved, Murphy’s Law dictates I’ll bump into Prince Charming tomorrow, fall instantly in love, and have to do the name change thing all over again very, very soon. Right? RIGHT??? *stares hopefully out of the window*