What’s in a name?

I really thought I’d made the decision. Even before Bruce and I thought about marriage, I knew I wanted to keep my own name. I mean, if the man I married had a super awesome last name, then I’d consider it, but Rachel Russell doesn’t sound good at all. So no, not a chance.

It was only last week that I actually began to reconsider, and it’s because I really started to think about how it would feel after we had children.

No offence to any of you hyphenated people, but I’m not a fan. One last name is enough, I think, and I wouldn’t want to stick my children with the aesthetic evil of a double last name. In any case, I’d come to terms with the fact that any children I had would take my husband’s last name, not mine. Is it fair? Hell no. It sucks. But it’s no more fair for me to insist on them taking my name than it would be if he insisted on them taking his. There’s really no fair way to make this decision, so I’d take one for the team.

Long before last week, I’d thought about all this, and I dealt with it, and it wasn’t going to affect my own decision to keep my last name. But then I really, really thought about it, and I realized a whole new level on which it sucks to be in this position.

My family is going to be the Russells, and I won’t be a Russell.

For some people, that’s not a big deal. A name is just a name, and it definitely can’t dictate what it means to be a family. For people who see it that way, good for you. But, in my experience and from my perspective, names have meaning, and seemingly superficial qualities can have enormous symbolic weight. Maybe studying English makes me see metaphors in everything, but it occurred to me that I just can’t deal with not being a part of my own family in this way.

The night I thought about this for the first time, I got really upset. I had been so confident that I knew what I wanted, but suddenly I felt stuck in an impossible situation. Why do I have to surrender a part of my identity in order to feel like a part of my new family? And my wonderful, well-meaning fiance doesn’t really get it – because, as a man, he’s never had to seriously consider this problem. He’s allowed to assume that our children will take his last name, because that’s just how it is. We will receive mail addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Bruce Russell, and there will always be people who call me Mrs. instead of Ms., but his identity is in no way compromised by his decision to marry. I’m grateful that my gender doesn’t often determine my life in worse ways than this, but I refuse to pretend that this is insignificant, and it’s clearly symptomatic of broader social issues.

I’d really appreciate anyone’s thoughts on the matter!

Wedding planning

Weddings are hard.

I mean, I’m not complaining or anything. I get to wear an awesome dress, throw an awesome party, and marry an awesome guy. I have little to complain about, but still: weddings are hard.

There are so many choices that seem to demand immediate attention: the venue, the guest list, the food, the officiant. These choices aren’t easy, but they’re aggravated by the big questions of what-can-we-afford? and will-anyone-we-know-have-a-problem-with-this? Many decisions are as much about politics as they are about preference.

Oh, the guest list. The guest list, which should be easy, is proving to be the most exhausting endeavour so far. I’ve always imagined myself having a very small, simple wedding, but I never realized that having a small wedding is anything but simple. Extended family is the trickiest of the grey areas. I’m still not entirely sure what I’ll do, but I’m almost certain I won’t be able to do it without offending someone I care about, which really, really sucks.

I read a book the other day, called A Practical Wedding (based on the website, apracticalwedding.com), which really helped me think about my plans in a different way. From the beginning, I was ready to cut from the wedding all of the Normal Wedding Things that I didn’t want – but that doesn’t mean I didn’t scour the internet for table runners and chair covers. But the book served as a good reminder that a wedding in no way requires all of the things that are marketed towards brides these days; a wedding requires a couple, an officiant, and a license. So, instead of starting with all of these expectations and slowly making cuts, I get to build from the ground up. Because, once the necessities are covered, everything else will only be there because we want it to be there. We are free to draw from tradition, but we are in no way confined by it. Even if that doesn’t actually change a single detail of how I plan my wedding, it certainly changes how I feel about it.

With simplicity in mind, though, I have a feeling that, once a few of these early decisions can finally be made, the rest will be a breeze. Regardless, I’m super excited; however the wedding goes, I’ll be happy as long as we’re married by the end of it.