When a woman is considering whether to change her name on marriage or keep the name she's got, she must consider several issues. A name is a very personal thing, and a good deal of one's identity is tied up in one's name.
* Does she LIKE her own name? She might be tired of explaining 27 times a day that "Featherstonehaugh" is pronounced "Fanshaw," or explaining to someone they accidentally misspelled "Smythe." But then again, she might be proud that her four-greats grandfather signed the Declaration of Independence or that she herself has won the Pulitzer Prize.
* Does she like her prospective new name? Wynona B. Cox, in love with Al Knott, might not WANT to become "Wy Knott." Wynona B. Cox might not WANT to become Wynona Cox Suquer. Also, it is becoming increasingly important to consider the mounting insanity in the no-fly list, and the fact that names that even SOUND Middle Eastern open their bearers to prejudice and worse. Ciara Jefferson might not WANT to become Ciara al-Hasri.
* Has she spent years establishing a professional reputation for herself, or would it not matter much if her name suddenly disappeared? An attorney might prefer to keep her own name, and a cocktail waitress might not care one way or the other. I know more than one woman who has had to cope with situations like, "Whatever happened to that brilliant physician Laura Oldname, anyway? I haven't heard anything about her in ages." "Um, that would be me. . . ."
* Are there children involved, or will there be? What will the children be named or renamed? It would be silly for Debby Throckmorton-Yakumo and Ronald Maharashta-McGillicuddy to unite their names on marriage and then name their child Roshanda Throckmorton-Yakumo-Maharashta-McGillicuddy (although I'd love to see the face of the school registrar several years later!).
My friend Pat Waters has been married for decades to Jack Baker; their daughters are Marie W. Baker and Susie W. Baker. When the girls were in school, Pat would once in a while face a confused teacher looking for Mrs. Baker or assuming Pat was her daughters' stepmother. The other 99 percent of the time, it just wasn't that big a deal.
* What are her prospective husband's feelings? Will he get all insulted and throw a fit if his wife "rejects" his name? Is he part of a large, traditional family that would get insulted and throw dozens of fits for years on end? I think a man who is proud of his own name but can't understand his fiancée being proud of HER name is probably not ready to be married — but if I were marrying into Tony Soprano's family, I might change my name because I'd be too nervous not to!
* How open is her prospective husband to changing his name too? Yes, Western society has been patrilineal for many centuries. So what? "We've always done it this way" is NOT a persuasive reason to keep doing it forever. When actress Meredith Baxter married actor David Birney, I was pleased that their professional names became Meredith Baxter Birney and David Baxter Birney. (A few years later, my first inkling that their marriage was in trouble came when David dropped his new middle name.)
When my husband and I got married, I reminded him about Meredith and David, and also told him about some friends of mine who had ALL changed their names. One couple had taken each other's surnames as middle names, with Tess Ann Garcia and Jeff Franklin Kim becoming Tess Kim Garcia and Jeff Garcia Kim. The other couple had done what to my mind was even better: Linda Brown and Dan Richards had become Dan and Linda Paulson. ("Paulson" was a name on one of their family trees that both of them liked.) I told my husband that I was open to changing my surname, IF he would change his surname too. I didn't think it was fair to have to be the ONLY one to go through the hassle of changing my name and the whole "Whatever happened to Mary Matthews, anyway?" annoyance.
Like me, my husband had spent many years building a professional reputation, and, like me, he was reluctant to abandon that reputation. He voted to keep his own name. And so for almost 20 years, we have been Mary W. Matthews and Jerry A. Merchant. Once in a while, Jerry has to put up with being called "Mr. Matthews," and I often have to put up with being called "Mrs. Merchant." But so what, who cares? The best part comes when people ask me why our names are different. I get to explain that we talked it over when we got married, and HE didn't want to change HIS name!
Names are hugely important, both to the bearer of the name and those who use it. Society treats a boy named Sue badly, not to mention a boy named Adolf or Osama. A person's name can be an expression of pride or racial identity. Lew Alcindor was a fine athlete, but to my mind not as thrilling as Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. Ditto for Cassius Clay and Muhammad Ali. I knew the moment I saw her name that BerNadette Stanis was proud to be African-American.
The sister of choreographer Debby Allen first worked under the name Phylicia Ayers-Allen, to make sure her mother, Vivian Ayers, received the honor she deserved; I admired Phylicia for her gesture. I was sorry when she changed her name to Phylicia Rashad — but oh well, such is love.
We hate it when someone mispronounces our name, ESPECIALLY when it's deliberate, done with the intention of offending. I still resent the junk-mailer who addressed me as Mort Mootoos for several years, back in the 1980s. Nicknaming someone is often an unconscious way of expressing a sense of superiority, as Karl Rove might have said when George W. Bush nicknamed him "Turd Blossom."
Early in our marriage, I gave my husband a nameplate for his desk at work that said "Jerry A. Merchant / World's Foremost Authority." Several years later, he reported that even though everyone around him knew the nameplate was a joke, they STILL treated him with more respect. My guess is that "Theresa Mandela" would get a lot more respect and admiration than "Theresa Ahmadinejad" — especially at the airport.
In a very real sense, when you change your name, you change your identity. If you dislike your name or are ashamed of it, you are a different person from the woman who is proud of her name and glad to be called by it.
No one should ever dislike her own name, or be ashamed of it, or find it annoying. You should love the sound of your name, especially on the lips of your beloved. If it would make you proud and happy to be known by your husband's surname, then by all means, change your name. Otherwise, stay who you are. You've spent a lifetime building the reputation of Your Wonderful Name; don't reject that just because your fiancé threatens to pout if you don't. In fact, if your fiancé makes changing your name into a deal-breaker, run for the hills — he's not emotionally mature enough to be getting married in the first place.