Despite being middle-aged, and far from a “maiden,” I wanted to reclaim my maiden name.
When I was in my 20s, the idea of marriage seemed constrictive. We were filling out the application for our marriage license in a county clerk’s office when I found out my future husband wanted me to take his last name. It was something we had never discussed, but he had assumed. He quickly realized there was no way I was going to budge. So he came up with a solution that he claimed would satisfy both of us, explaining, “If you hyphenate your name you can go by either name.”
He worked as a job recruiter, so he “knew how things worked in human resources.” This was 2001, pre-iPhone, and I couldn’t pull up Google to fact-check. I also didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I also wanted him to feel loved. I hyphenated my name.
A decade later, I’d be widowed with two young children and a hyphenated name. When my husband passed away, I decided to keep my married name on my official documents until my youngest turned 18. I had continued to use my maiden name professionally and socially, even when my husband was alive. Still, when you sign an official government document claiming to have a new name, that identity follows you.
