No way, José. I will not change my last name

By Taina Haiman, Being Latino

Although my husband and I met and got married in the United States, I was raised in Puerto Rico and he grew up in the neighboring Dominican Republic. In our countries, women don’t change their surnames after marriage. If they want to, they can add the proprietary “de” after their last name — Fulanita Pérez de Rivera — but it isn’t common practice anymore. After all, we don’t belong to our husbands — that makes it sound like we’re cattle or something.

In fact, for all the machista attitudes in Latino countries, passing down the woman’s surname is just as important as keeping the man’s surname going. Unlike the United States, when our children are born, we honor both families by listing both parents’ last names on the birth certificate. That way, the mother’s last name doesn’t simply disappear into oblivion.

When I was filling out my marriage license application ten years ago, it asked if I wanted to be known by a new name and provided a blank line for me to write it down. I stared at the line for a few seconds, and understanding that it is customary in this country to give up your last name and adopt your husband’s, I wrote down the only compromise I’m willing to make: I hyphenated.

My husband said I should change it because we lived in the United States now. I told him I was sorry, but I wouldn’t do it. Yes, that was not the way it was done back home, but we had lived in America for some time by then.

Yet, the true reason goes way deeper than just observing a cultural ritual.

Before I was born, my parents put careful thought into my name. They selected it from a group of contenders, and when added to their surnames and stamped on my birth certificate, it became my unique identity. My siblings and I are connected not only by genetics, but also by this union of names.

I went to school and learned how to write that name. When I received awards in school, that name was called out and engraved into the medals, plaques and trophies. When I graduated college, the name was written on my diploma. It identifies who I have been, who I am, and who I will become.

That name is a reminder of where I came from, of the love my mom and dad have for me, of my eternal link to them and all the ancestors before them. And I can’t and will not change it, because I love being me.

I tried to please my husband as much as I could by using his last name next to my dad’s. I have risked letting my mother’s surname disappear into oblivion so I can make him happy. He doesn’t mention the issue that much anymore, maybe because lately it’s becoming more and more common here to hyphenate and give children both surnames. It seems to me like Americans might be adopting one of our customs. ¡Enhorabuena!

This article was first published in Being Latino.