The decision to take my husband’s name has made me question how much of my identity was defined by being a ‘Royle’. Photo: Wirestock.
I’ve been a Royle for more than three decades.
The name is on everything from my school reports, university degrees, articles and stories, to passports, licences and my son’s birth certificate, so it makes sense that I have an attachment to it.
However, I never expected my decision to change it after I got married would spark so many opinions from others and even make me feel like a personal choice could be responsible for setting back feminism.
It’s safe to say my journey to marriage hasn’t been the most traditional – in fact what could be considered one of the usual first steps to declaring ‘forever’ with a partner was actually one of our last, with the mortgage, baby and dogs already ticked off our relationship bingo card.
There really wasn’t a lot of discussion about changing my surname. My thinking was: “Yep, sure, it would be nice for our cute little family to all have the same last name – no dramas”.
But it quickly became one of the most asked questions about my marriage and after I was told by someone that I didn’t seem like the “type of person” to do that, it sent me into a bit of a spiral about what the choice would mean for my identity and my values.
So, what’s in a name?
Changing your name does not equate to a clean slate.
Can I now claim that I was never late to school or got kicked out of a club or sent off in hockey because that was Keeli Royle who did all those things, not me?
No.
And in the same way, it does not take away my previous achievements and successes.
While the gesture of taking my husband’s name may have patriarchal origins, if I focus solely on that logic then my current name is simply just one imposed by my father, and a long line of men before him.
Traditions don’t always have to mean the same thing they first meant.
Arguably, telling a woman that she shouldn’t take a certain name and removing that autonomy could be considered less feminist than taking the name itself.
Although I struggled to find an exact figure, I understand that a bride changing her name is still the outcome in the majority of heterosexual unions, but I’ve also seen many alternatives such as hyphenating or merging names to create something new.
Unfortunately Royle-Dyson sounds a bit too much like a chocolate, tableware or a fancy vacuum for my liking.
Sticking to your maiden name is also completely valid – whether it’s due to a strong connection to your identity, a desire to challenge social constructs, the overwhelming amount of paperwork associated with the change or just simply that you like your name.
This may be a big change, but for me there are definite perks, the main being that I can share a name with my husband and son … the second being that I don’t have to constantly spell Royle (Royal? Royale? Role?).
So when you see the name Keeli Dyson pop up, please don’t panic! And trust that if the new name doesn’t work out, I’ll just drop it altogether and become like Cher and Madonna.
