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Chicks Getting Hitched: Marriage Contemplations

Back in my early 20s, one by one, all of my straight friends started to get married. For the most part, I was happy for them. I loved discussing the details of their big days, probably more than they did. I could tolerate spending Sunday afternoons at wedding showers making small talk with grandmothers (at least it gave me a socially-acceptable excuse to drink during the day). I even came to terms with the fact that I’d be shelling out a grand every time someone asked me to be a bridesmaid.

What I absolutely, positively could not tolerate was when one of my friends sheepishly told me she was considering the unthinkable — taking her husband’s last name. What!?! We were feminists. We took care of ourselves. We had careers and ambitions. These were strong and independent women who had no problem bucking convention in millions of other ways, so it was impossible for me to understand their decisions at the time.

The first time one of my feisty feminist pals was introduced at her wedding as “Mrs. Susie [LAST NAME OF SOME STUPID BOY],” I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from screaming, “Do you remember all of the Take Back the Night and pro-choice rallies we marched in? Have you forgotten all of the Ani DiFranco concerts we went to? Did none of that mean anything to you?”

And then I fell in love.

Of course, I didn’t fall in love with a man; I fell in love with a woman (a few of them over the years, actually). Marrying one of these women wasn’t really of an option a decade ago, but even if it had been, the notion of changing my name never would have entered my consciousness. That was something silly straight people did. Nevertheless, the experience of being in love softened me a bit, and if I didn’t completely understand my hetero friends’ decisions to change their names, I was at least able to accept that their brains had not been taken over by misogynist Martians.

Fast forward to today, and marriage is a realistic option for lesbians. And unbelievably, I’ve found the one who I want to marry (and who claims she is willing to tolerate me for the rest of her life!). Maybe it’s because we still have to jump through all kinds of legal and cultural hoops to get our lesbian unions recognized, but I feel the need to let the world know my relationship is real and that we are in this for the long haul — just like every straight couple who strolls down to city hall and seals the deal with one piece of paper.

As I contemplate what my future with my girlfriend will look like, I’d be lying if I said I’ve never doodled my first name with her last name. Eek! Have I become what I’ve disdained all of these years? Maybe. But the fact of the matter is that I want to be joined with this woman in every way I possibly can be.

There are enough things lesbian couples are denied: federal legal protection of our relationships, automatic inheritance rights, and our partner’s social security benefits — just to name a few. So, I want to take advantage of every possible outward symbol that we can access to let the world know that my relationship is serious. Maybe my partner and I will never be able to file joint tax returns, but with a little hassle and paper work, we can share the same last name.

Of course, my brain hasn’t completely turned to mush because I’m in love. As soon as I finish fantasizing about creating my own perfect little family, unified by one last name, I start to agonize over the implications of changing my name. Would the feminists excommunicate me? Would I hurt my father’s feelings by shedding his name? (Actually, I think I took care of that when I came out in the first place.) Would I eventually regret my choice? After all, I’ve had this name for more than three decades, and I’ve built a moderately successful career under it — so I don’t know if it’s something I could actually give up. But, I figure if Portia DeGeneres‘ career has survived since she took Ellen‘s last name, then I will probably be alright.

There’s an added complication in my analysis: If I were marrying a man, there’s no way I’d take his name. He could be the most enlightened, supportive feminist man on the planet, but I simply would not be able to reconcile succumbing to a sexist tradition. So, am I a hypocrite? Or, do we lesbians have a “get out of jail free” card on this one because we’re taking another woman’s name?

To be sure, there’s plenty of middle ground when it comes to marriage and last names. As lesbians, we have even more flexibility than straight couples to bend and break the rules because we don’t have the centuries’ worth of societal pressure that compels many straight brides to change their names.

There’s always the option to hyphenate, which allows everyone to preserve her identity and family history. But, where does that leave our children? Presuming we pass our values on to them, they’ll feel compelled to merge their hyphenated names with the possibly hyphenated surnames of their future partners — leaving them with four last names. The political correctness has to stop somewhere!

Then there’s the option of adopting a completely new last name as a married couple. Lesbians love to merge the first names of famous fictional couples (think Calzona, Brittana and TiBette), so why not combine our last names into new family names? This alternative lets couples express their unity without anyone sacrificing her autonomy. It’s a win-win, right? As much as I love this idea, it feels a teensy bit hokey. I’m a little gun-shy about doing anything that might make my lesbian marriage seem anything less than legit. There are already enough people — and governments — that don’t take same-sex relationships seriously. So, I worry that if we start making up last names, we’ll add fuel to their ridiculous fire.

I don’t know the answer to this question, and frankly, I don’t think there is one right answer. As more and more lesbian couples tie the knot, I imagine we will come up with all kinds of creative solutions to this name game — and I look forward to figuring it out with all of you.

Do you think lesbian couples should change their last names to express their unity? Or do you think lesbians who take their wives’ names are buying into to a sexist tradition?

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