Member-only story
This Is Us
On Choosing My Own Name
Society asked me to take a man’s name. I didn’t want to.
20 years ago
I got married! I am 20 years old. I replace my family name with my husband’s without a thought. Two become one—how romantic.
15 years ago
Back in university at the age of 25, and after birthing two beautiful children, I explore self. I realize I have come to dislike my married name. It is unbeautiful. Most people mispronounce it, and when they get it right, it sounds like “grunt.” I miss the meaning of my old name, “summer field.”
I also begin to learn about patriarchy—through my classes and at home. The men in my husband’s family are unlike the men I grew up around. They hold power, control, and judgment over their families. There is a clear hierarchy. They have anger issues. The family tree is rotten with violence. I regret sharing a name with these men.
If I could travel back in time, I would not have changed my name. But I am a mother. Together with my husband, we created a family of four. I like us. His last name wraps around the four of us like a ribbon. I like that.
