Where’s the choice in choosing Mrs. “His Name”?

“A wife should no more take her husband’s name than he should hers. My name is my identity and must not be lost”
- Lucy Stone (1818-1893), the first American woman to retain her own surname after marriage

My grandma told me a story the other day. She told me about the first time she was referred to as Mrs. Betty Unger instead of Mrs. Harold Unger. She still remembers that moment proudly. It was in the late 40’s in rural Manitoba.

That story, among others, has got me thinking about the power of a name. Recently, I’ve had visceral reactions to seeing women I know change their name after marriage. I see it on facebook, on email or just the signature on cards. And for some reason, I am utterly dismayed that it is still happening. In my limited experience, it has been rare for the woman to keep her name, and unheard of for the man to change his. And according to statistics, 90% of women continue to take their husband’s name in the United States. Sometimes I think that it’s a modern day version of Mrs. Harold Unger but now it’s framed in the rhetoric of choice and mutual decisions.

Historically, a woman’s last name was a way of knowing whom she belonged to. In other words, her name identified her as the possession of a man- be it her father, her brother, her uncle or her husband. My grandmother was called Mrs. Harold Unger because she was only a person in relation to my grandfather- legally, socially and economically.

And whether we like it or not, there is power in a name and the decision that came with it. There is power in the history that the name brings with it, and the history that will follow. Without a name, it is as if their identity and their past and future history never existed. Call me radical, but I think the problem is patriarchy.

But what I am most interested in is how patriarchy works in the specific moment when the decision is made. It is the moment where there are countless possibilities but only one is chosen. Why is that choice made in that moment?

And of course every discussion ends with choice. “I chose to take his name- it was a mutual decision”. And sure, if you take it at face value it’s true. But how is it that almost every woman I know has had to make concessions but not the man. And was it mutual or was it just easier and more expected? Perhaps it was too much trouble or just too much to ask of him.

So when people tell me it was a mutual choice, I disagree. I want to emphasize the fact that this choice is instead framed by the tradition of names and history (and I do mean His-Story). It is rooted in patriarchy and it is based on the assumption that women will continue to make concessions and compromises that men are unwilling to make. ***

So if you make that choice to take his name, I will respect it and honour it. But I will not pretend that I don’t believe that it is based on an unequal relationship between men and women that has been going on forever. I will not pretend that I think it’s great because it makes me uneasy to see how patriarchy works in such small and almost mundane ways. “Rather, such a choice should truly be a choice and not a product of legislative and social constraints based on an antiquated conception of women as second-class citizens” (Sneider, 2009, p. 587). But as Roiphe states,

“The truth is there is something unsatisfying about either the bride or groom giving up their name. There is in the creation of a family a kind of uncomfortable and thrilling blending of identity, a difficult obliteration of the distinct self; in short, it's one of those nuanced, emotional moments that rarely fit into the categories rigidly set out by the purest forms of feminist ideology”

And I agree. But I don’t think that means that the automatic answer it to conform to history and tradition- a tradition that privileges one sex over the other. In any case, I invite you to think about it, on this blog or elsewhere. I urge you to research the countless possibilities regarding name change. I ask you to think about the power that comes with a name.

I have and I don’t think that I will change my tune (if marriage is in my cards, that is). I am who I am. And although who I am is caught up in a tradition of male lineage, I am ending that in my own way. There have been enough centuries where there has been no other choice. Instead, I will pass down my name to my children and a compromise will have to occur between my partner and myself (if I have kids, of course). But I am not going to pretend that it isn’t significant, that it doesn’t tell a story of power and privilege because it does. There is power in a name, and I plan on using it.


*** On that note, I continue to be frustrated with double standards. A man is not amazing, phenomenal or anything special if he thinks about changing his name. It should be standard; it should be normal. Women have done it for centuries so why can’t they? And if they offer it, they better damn well be ready to actually change it. Otherwise it is merely talk. And as the saying goes, don’t talk the talk unless you can walk the walk. Otherwise it’s just a slap in the face.

Random Facts of marital name change:

• In Canada, you can use your maiden or your married name interchangeably at any point in your life without going through a legal name change.
  
• In contrast, in 42 of the American states men are required to obtain a court order in order to change their last name. The exceptions are California, Georgia, Hawaii, Iowa, Louisiana, Massachusetts, New York and North Dakota. Whereas women have the statutory right in all of the U.S. to change their last name upon marriage (See Sneider, 2009).
• 3 million women each year in the United States take on the name of their husband (90% of women who get married annually).
• Name change options include: Wife's surname, husband's surname, hyphenated surname, melded surname, new surname, use wife/husband's surname as a middle name (See The Lucy Stone League).
  

The stories we tell about rape

Today I am going to dive in with a subject that at times brings me to tears but also fills me with enraged passion. I am still left with the dream that things can and will change. And I hold onto this dream tightly.

I am writing to you about rape, consent and the stories we tell about it. I am responding to the countless stories I hear about rape. These stories blame women for their “slutty” appearance, their lack of vigilance, and their “irresponsible” actions. These stories tell us that some professions, certain races or classes of people are more deserving of rape. They tell you that rape is your fault and that you could have prevented it from happening.

We all hear these stories about rape. We hear them on the news, in newspapers, and during conversations with friends. Some are implicit while others remain explicit in the story they tell about rape.

You might tell me that these are just stories. And yes. They are stories. They are stories about rape, about women, and about consent. But these are stories that have also become understood as the Truth. They have been validated in the Law through legal discourse and precedent. They have been repeated in media and imprinted in the minds of women and men, and society at large but these are not innocent stories. They are important because what people say about rape and consent have real concrete implications and consequences for women. They impact the way women feel following a rape, they impact the conviction rate of rapists and they impact the percentage of women who report to the police. Lastly, and most importantly, they erase the fact that rape is perpetrated by men against women, and that rape is never a woman’s fault. Re-telling these stories reinforces, perpetuates and validates rape myths and rape against women.

And I do not claim to be immune from these stories we tell about rape and consent. I fall into the trap of believing them and reinforcing them with my language and my actions. I blame the girls in the short skirts and high heels when they complain about unwanted male attention. I ask myself- don’t they know better?
I know that I should be more scared when I go drinking with friends than when I walk home alone at night. I should be more scared in my own home with loved ones, relatives or acquaintances because over 80% of sexual assault is perpetrated by someone you know. Despite this, it is when I walk home alone when my heart pounds and it is only when I close the door behind me that I feel safe. Somehow we have all learned to believe these myths with gusto. Somehow I have learned that home is safe, despite the fact that the majority of abuse and violence perpetrated against women occurs in the home. But I believe these myths because if anything happened, I would be blamed. So I have learned to be vigilant- I call cabs or friends walk me home (and thank you for doing that- it means oh so much to me). But that still doesn’t solve the problem of rape.



So stories are important. They impact all of our lives. They will impact the one in four women in Canada who will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime. That means that there is a good chance that some of your female friends, acquaintances or family members will be raped or have already been. But maybe you won’t hear about it. Because talking about rape means talking about blame and shame. It means talking about what you did wrong and how you could have prevented it. So the stories we tell about rape are real, important and matter in all of our lives. Victim blaming is never acceptable. Instead, the stories we tell need to put rapists at the heart of the problem because rape is never a woman’s fault.

Photo credits: Garneau Sisterhood