Keeping My Name

When I got married—the first time, in 1974—I didn’t change my name. Not taking the husband’s name was a newer concept then, and it wouldn’t actually have occurred to me if Tom (first husband Tom, not current husband Tom) hadn’t suggested it.

Tom’s family was supportive to a fault. Example: For our wedding present, his mother embroidered a set of sheets, with “His” and “Hers” nested amid the beautiful flowers and curlicues on the pillowcases. Some time after we opened her gift, she sought me out privately to say, in her quiet, unassuming way, “I hope the ‘his’ and ‘hers’ is OK on the pillowcases. I knew to stay away from ‘Mr.’ and ‘Mrs.,’ but I wasn’t absolutely sure about ‘his’ and ‘hers.’ Tears filled my eyes as I hugged and reassured her. How thoughtful to be sensitive about such a thing. How hilarious to wonder about ‘his’ and ‘hers.’

My own mother, though 10 years younger than Tom’s, was less hip, or perhaps just less agreeable. She knew I was retaining “Wiseman,” but after the marriage her weekly letters, formerly just to me, now came to both of us, with the envelope addressed to “Mr. and Mrs. Tom Goode.” The kind interpretation is that in 1974 Mom did not know how to address an envelope to a married couple with different surnames, since neither Emily Post nor Ann Landers had as yet directed the world on how to do it. That’s setting aside the possible interpretation that Mom was being passive-aggressive.

I didn’t want to confront her about it—afraid to learn she had disapproved of my decision, perhaps, but also, it must be said, because I avoided confrontation of any kind. (This was before therapy, obviously.) Tom, however, had no such misgivings and became increasingly irritated by the incorrectly addressed letters.

The turning point came when my birthday present arrived addressed to “Mrs. Tom Goode.” I didn’t like it but was willing to let it go (note the “before therapy” comment, above). Not so, Tom. He said if I didn’t talk to Mom he was going to send the present back, with a note that there was no such person as Mrs. Tom Goode. (I was just beginning to realize, in that alarming first-year-of-marriage way, that Tom was pretty bull-headed about some things.) His confronting my mother, or, more likely, accosting her, was out of the question, of course.

So, I had to tell my mother to address me by my actual name of Marian Wiseman. She complied immediately, and it was so easy! No questions asked, no resistance, no difficulties of any kind. If I had realized then how effective assertive behavior was, I might have avoided those years of therapy.

I was surprised recently to find out how uncommon it is, still, for women to keep their birth name at marriage: only 20% of women do so; another 10% or so use a hyphenated name or some other modified version of their birth name. But there is apparently a small trend toward maintaining one’s own name. Some commentators believe that the rise of social media is contributing to this trend, as women face inconveniences in changing online accounts or realize that their Facebook or Linked-In histories and identities are lost if they create an identity under a new name.

For me, I have never once regretted my decision to keep my own name when I married in 1974, or when I married again in 2000, for that matter. Ah, one name. Permanently.

I would love to hear your views on this issue, whether you are married or not, or female or not.