What’s in a name?

Although we’re on the national no-call list, we still getting telemarketing calls guised as donations to various “charities.”  Each one has the same schtick: they always ask if I am Mrs. Kinman and each time I tell them there is no Mrs. Kinman at this address.  It usually throws them off and flusters them just long enough for me to interject a “We ain’t interested” before hanging up.

I recently stumbled upon this article by Catherine Deveny about the whole business of changing your surname upon marrying.  Deveny bluntly sums up my thoughts on the whole matter in mere sentences:

Wake up! We are in 2007. Women are no longer owned by their father and then their husband. So why are some women still changing their surnames? And why do some men still want them to? It’s sad, it’s misogynous, it’s archaic, it’s insecure and it’s unnecessary.

Long ago when I was just a budding feminist, I remember a conversation between my mother and older brother about women taking their husband’s surnames, which I denounced for the silly and archaic tradition it is.  My brother insisted that because the man buys the ring, a woman is obligated to take his last name.  My mother patronized me with a dismissed “She’ll change her mind once she falls in love and gets married.”

Fast forward ten years later: I’ve fallen in love, gotten married and still haven’t changed my name.

I announced my intentions to keep my name long before we said our “I do’s,” but never informed Brandon’s family, namely because, for me, it’s a moot issue.  Marriage isn’t about semantics; it’s about love, respect and commitment.
Both of Brandon’s sisters-in-law took his brother’s names when marrying, and are religious to boot, so I was somewhat apprehensive on his family’s reactions to my blatant act of feminism.  His mother asked me outright the night before our wedding and I took a deep breath, and told her of my plans.  She didn’t seem surprised; I think she knew the answer before she even asked.

My mother, by contrast, thinks I am being blasphemous and disrespectful to Brandon.  You would think she of all people ought to know better.  She went from being a daughter to being a wife at age 18, where she changed her name to my father’s name.  Now that they’re divorced, she retained my dad’s name and is in a relationship with someone else who she could potentially marry, upon which she would change her name again.  In just a short span of fifty years, she could literally have three identities.

Our reception is coming up on Sept. 15.  I sent out all the wedding announcement and reception invitations with our “Brandon Kinman and Rachel Richardson” mailing labels, but I know I am going to field this question again. I’d rather not engage the questioner in a lengthy diatribe on how the practice is a tool of the patriarchy.  Any clever response ideas?