I Took His Name, and Now I Can’t Remember Who I am
Hey kids. Guess what day of the week it is?? Yup. Hot On the Titties Friday. The day of the week where I find something hot and delicious for you all to chew on over the weekend. Today, I’m going to see if any bra burning feminists want to play.
Please read this article on Jezebel. The piece talks about women changing their name when they get married. As usual, I will give you a brief summary. Apparently, the act of a woman changing her name is archaic. It is the fundamental part of our identity that shouldn’t be given up. Becoming a “Mrs.” means your importance to this world is attached to your marital status, and I guess therefore your desirability to a man. It’s sexist. Blah blah blah.
So for the second time this week, I will pull out the 1950’s woman inside me, color her up with a few fun words, and say, “what a bunch of bullshit.”
Why do we have to read so much into to every little thing?
These over sensitive bitches have it all wrong. Empowerment doesn’t come from telling one group of women they are doing it wrong. Empowerment comes from giving someone the choice to do what’s right for them. Empowerment is saying you are free to decide for yourself what is the best course of action. Not telling her that her identity is lost because of her love and respect for another human being.
Personally, I hyphenated my last name. And it is absolutely fucking ridiculous. The only advantage it has is when I am performing somewhere, my name is so fucking long that it usually gets it’s own line. Shit, sometimes it gets its own paragraph. So my name stands out in a program. For some reason, I allowed my mom to talk me into this one. I think at the time I felt like it was the respectful thing to do. But the choice doesn’t make me feel empowered. It makes me feel retarded every time I have to make an appointment and spell my name for someone.
These days, unless it is something “official”, I generally just use my husband’s name. And you know what? I think at some point I will change it legally and get rid of the hyphen. Maybe when my mom’s not here anymore. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.
The Destroyer has her Daddy’s name. And so will Little Buddy.
Cause here’s the thing. I don’t think my name has anything to do with my identity. I mean, obviously if they found my body somewhere they would use my name to identify who I am. But it wouldn’t tell them anything about me besides logistics.
Because my identity is formed by the words coming out of my mouth. By the actions I perform. By the people I love and the things I do for others. My identity is linked to my children, and how they grow up. They will carry on my legacy, not because of their name, but because of the things I teach them.
It think it’s sad that someone’s sense of self is so clouded that taking the name of the man they love makes them feel like their identity is lost. I figure if you love someone enough to spend the rest of your life with them, you love them enough to take their name. Or the husband could take the wife’s name. The point is that it’s a romantic gesture, a traditional gesture.
To me, marriage is the blending of two lives to create a new, unbreakable partnership. You don’t lose your identity, but it changes as you blend into one life together.
So Ladies…..Did you/are you going to change your name when you got/get married?
According to article, 90% of women still change their names. That’s a lot of identity-less girls out there.
Good thing I have two names, so I know half of myself pretty well.
Happy Friday, Bitches.