#36. Should I Change My Last Name?

An internal debate.

Jul 19, 2023

A few weeks ago, Paul and I went out to dinner with my parents at a little French restaurant in downtown St. Paul that my mom absolutely raved about from the moment we walked in. While we were drinking red wine waiting for our main courses to arrive, she not-so-casually lobbed a question across the table: “So, have you decided whether or not you’re changing your last name yet?”

There are over 3 million people with the last name “Johnson” in the world– it’s also the most common last name in the state of Minnesota, and the second most common in the United States. My proposed new last name may be extremely popular in the state I live in (it’s the fourth most common after Johnson, Anderson, and Nelson), but there are only 234,641 recorded instances of the last name “Olson” worldwide.

There are a million reasons to want to keep or change your name, and marriage isn’t even necessarily the precipitating factor for many of those feelings. I’ve been talking about changing my name since I was in middle school–first I dabbled with spelling my first name “Kellie” and then “Keli,” both of which felt off-brand and didn’t stick–and then in high school, I more or less accepted my somewhat bland first name with its usual spelling and started fantasizing about changing my last name when I got married instead. I’ve tried on the last name of basically every person I’ve ever dated, wondering how it would sound to introduce myself as that person; a brand-new identity. Marriage has always felt to me like a convenient excuse to change my name in a way that wouldn’t read to other people as “weird”–but really, the desire to change my name in some way has always been about expressing my identity in a way that feels more interesting than the admittedly banal name I was born with.

What’s in a name? Juliet said that “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet” when referring to her lover, who belonged to her family’s rival house. I like the sentiment of that world-famous phrase–that Juliet doesn’t give a fuck what Romeo’s last name is; she loves him, and that’s that–but I think names can actually affect our perceptions of people, our identities, and even our personalities. My mom named me after a popular girl she went to high school with who she didn’t know but admired from afar–a cheerleader–and that’s always been the image the name “Kelly” has conjured for me, though the association has dulled over time.

My full name is about as cookie cutter as it gets. Try Googling me without any other identifying factor! You won’t get very far–there are literally thousands of people with my name out there. I hate the relative obscurity and blend-into-the-crowd misfortune that comes with a common first and last name combo, and I have pretty much always wanted to change mine. Maybe I should have, years ago, when it had absolutely nothing to do with marriage, and everything to do with an expression of the “self.” But here we are, with a name I’ve now had for 34 years, and a forthcoming marriage as the precipitating factor for a potential new identifier.

To change, or not to change? That is the question, and a decision that every person who gets married has to make at some point. Typically, the people mostly likely to consider a name change precipitated by marriage are women. Given the dismal history of women taking their husband’s last names and its shockingly Handmaid’s Tale-ian nature, a woman keeping her last name is certainly the most “feminist” option available (and the easiest), but it’s a route that only 20-30% of American women who are married to men currently take. (For LGBTQIA+ couples, though, half choose one partner’s name.)

Here’s a fun statistic that will really freak you out: As recently as the 1970s, women in the U.S. were required to use their husband’s last name to vote, bank, or get a passport, according to state laws. Those laws were changed in 1975, but surprisingly, the percentage of women keeping their last names after marriage really hasn’t changed that much since the 70s, when the number was around 17%. Instead of women feeling liberated and empowered to keep their names after 1975, the percentage actually dropped back down to pre-1970s levels–14%–in the conservative 1980s. Shockingly, the amount of women keeping their last names only passed the 20% mark as recently as the 2010s.

In general, it’s white women who get married at a later age, who are less religious, and don’t have (or plan to have) kids who keep their last names. (Hi, it’s me, I’m the problem.)

A 2013 article I dug up from Women’s Health has some really fun stats and quotes in it about how men feel about women keeping their last names that all make me want to barf:

63 percent of Men’s Health followers said they would be upset if their wives kept their maiden names:

“One family, one name. If she didn't take my name, I'd seriously question her faith in us lasting as a couple. And I don't want hyphenated kids.”
“I believe the purpose of marriage is raising children, and children take their father's name (as a way of identifying paternity). Mothers always have a special bond, carrying their young. Fathers don’t, so [passing on our name] is our compensation.”
“It sounds like she's trying to hang onto her "single person" identity and not identify with the fact that she's married now.”
“Hyphenation is a direct “f*ck you” to a man’s masculinity… it elevates his father-in-law’s manhood over his own.”

96 percent of Men’s Health followers said they wouldn’t take a woman’s last name if she asked them to:

“My name is part of who I am.”
“Call it pride or ego, whatever. It’s not happening.”
“[I wouldn’t take a woman’s last name if she asked.] Admittedly, this feels hypocritical, though.”
“That’s just not manly to me.”

Love that for us.

The experiences of married people in my orbit truly runs the gamut. I have friends who have kept their name on feminist principle, kept their name out of laziness, changed their name for the sake of tradition (or for the benefit of their future children), changed their last name and used theirs as a middle name, chosen a new last name together with their partner, hyphenated their last names, kept their name at work but changed it legally, and kept their name for now but plan to change it eventually. I also have a friend who is considering taking his wife’s last name when they have kids–which is currently so uncommon it represents a choice that only 3% of heterosexual, married men make–because his wife’s last name just sounds way cooler than his does.

Right now, I’m leaning towards keeping my name. First of all, becoming Kelly Johnson-Olson or Kelly Jolson would be absolutely ridiculous. Let’s be serious, lol. And after years of imagining myself as someone else and a close brush with marrying the wrong person, I’ve found a sort of peace with who I am, and the name that has been with me through it all.

If I keep my last name, I’ll have to learn to accept that people will still address us as “The Olsons” or accidentally call me by the wrong name, and I know this because it’s already started happening to me, and we aren’t even married yet. It might be totally innocent–an easy mistake you might not think twice about–but it’s also indicative of the fact that most people will just assume I’m going to change my last name eventually.

Like it or not, a married, heterosexual woman taking her husband’s last name is the “default” option, and it’s a much surer bet to assume I’ll change my name. And maybe I accept that most people are a little lazy and don’t want to go through the extra effort to find out what my last name is, but I also think it should be a courtesy among friends and acquaintances that people shouldn’t just assume. For example, I sent out a save-the-date a few weeks ago to a newer friend and her husband (who have different last names), and after receiving it, they asked me how I figured out his last name since they couldn’t remember it ever having come up, and they’re both not on Instagram. I answered, “Well I stalked you on LinkedIn, of course,” and they both laughed. I wanted to get his name right! Why don’t we always afford women the same courtesy?

Four years ago, during my previous and ultimately failed engagement, I received a wedding invitation in the mail from one of our friends. It was addressed to: “The Future Mr. and Mrs. [Ex’s Last Name]” in beautiful, delicate calligraphy. While I think the intention behind this likely very innocent and well-meaning choice was to show excitement and support for us, the impact on my mental state was considerably less positive. It made me feel erased. No part of my actual name was on the invitation at all, and I’m sure the sender didn’t know this at the time, but the relationship was in a dark place. Seeing his name on the invitation instead of mine was like a bucket of cold water being thrown in my face. Is this your future? Is this who you are going to become? And are you okay with that?

Keeping my last name would probably condemn me to a future of corrections, repeating “actually, my last name is Johnson” to people over and over until I die. Eventually it won’t be with friends and acquaintances; it will just be random people I’ll meet along the road of life who go for the easy answer. We’ll pull up to a hotel that Paul has booked for us, I’ll be driving, and they’ll address me as “Mrs. Olson” when I step out of the car. I know this because it has already happened. And it will keep happening until the majority of married women stop changing their last names. Which may be never, or at least not in my lifetime.

I also can’t help but wonder if, in the not-so-distant future, we will continue to use terms like “husband” and “wife”–words many people my age seem to chew on like they don’t taste quite right–or designations like “Mrs” and “Ms” and “Miss.” Why are there three options for women depending on her age and whether or not she’s married, when a man’s designation never changes?

Even the term “maiden name” really rubs me the wrong way, which is why you’ll see I’ve somehow managed to avoid it this entire issue. “Maiden” is a word that means many things, including a young, virginal, unmarried woman; a maidservant; and something that is new, fresh, and untried. Um… no. I might eventually get comfortable with saying I’m a wife, but calling Johnson my maiden name is where I draw the fucking line.

So tell me–what did you do? Did you change your last name, or keep it? Do you regret it? Come tell me your experiences with name changes in the comments; I am genuinely dying to know!!

I can tell you one thing for sure–no matter what I decide to do, if I got a dollar every time future me meets a new person who accidentally or accurately addresses me as “Mrs. Olson” simply because it’s the default guess in our society, I’d probably die rich.

K bye,
Kelly (Johnson🙃)

#36. Should I Change My Last Name?

An internal debate.

63 percent of Men’s Health followers said they would be upset if their wives kept their maiden names:

96 percent of Men’s Health followers said they wouldn’t take a woman’s last name if she asked them to:

Discussion about this post