Gesenhues is not my husband’s last name; it’s my father’s. When I was first married at the unbelievably young age of 12 (or 23, somewhere around there), I was too young to know what I was giving up and I took my husband’s last name ... or, at least, I used it for about four years. I never legally changed my name when we got married.

Four years into our marriage, my husband and I separated and I began using my original name. Since I had never changed my name legally, going back to Gesenhues-status was not a big deal. Fortunately for us, we worked things out and reunited, but with renewed ideas of how to move forward — one idea was that I would keep my last name.

I hadn’t thought about my last name in awhile, and then a recent newspaper headline caught my attention: “Marriage Survey: Most Say Wife Should Change Name.” Hmmmm ... my first thought was, who was most? My second thought was why they cared about my last name. Then I remembered that there is no shortage of people who insist on telling other people what they should do, think, eat and be.

I changed my name for three reasons that I can ... name.

On the surface, there’s an idea of I-am-woman-hear-me-roar that goes along with keeping your name after marriage. But, keeping my name wasn’t so much about me roaring, as it was about me simply staying who I am.

There’s a mingling of things that happens after marriage. You and your spouse’s lives overlap in ways you don’t realize until it’s done. Family, friends, and money are the big overlappers, but then there are the details that you don’t think about or even see overlapping in the beginning — what you eat, what movies you watch, a type of car you might buy, or even the most mundane choices like how you keep your closet. These are the compromises that mix to make the mortar of marriage.

Every three seconds in a marriage, a spouse must make a decision to compromise or to fight about why they don’t want to compromise. While my husband would probably say not-so-much, I say there was a lot of compromising happening on my side when I was a young, easily influenced, early-twenty-something bride. With each compromise I made, I unknowingly gave up tiny pieces of who I thought I was. Taking my name back helped me re-establish independence in this way.

The second reason is that I like my last name. I’m a words person. There are words I like a lot because of the way they sound, like “banana” or “Michelangelo.” There are also words that sound like nails on a chalkboard to me. I cringe every time I hear the word “cargo.” I can’t stand the sound of the “c” and hard “g” so close. (I know, I’m a bit nutty, but I’ve never claimed otherwise.)

Gesenhues is pronounced gay-zen-house, or if you’re my cousin, ga-ZOON-esse. Either way, it’s a great word — three syllables that sound completely different than they look. I loved my last name at the beginning of every school year. I’d sit patiently at my desk awaiting for the teacher to try to pronounce it as best she could. My name automatically made me unique; it was the easiest way in the world to get noticed — and be remembered — at the beginning of every class. (Yes, I was that type of student. Please don’t act surprised.)

The last reason — and the one Freud would suggest — is that it was my dad’s last name. Because my dad died when I was only three, I have few memories of him that I can hang onto; but, his name I can keep forever. When you lose a parent before you have the chance to know them, you tend to cling to whatever similarities you may share to stay connected. Keeping my last name has, in some small way, accomplished this for me.

I get the irony that I’m just exchanging one man’s last name for another, but I received the first man’s name when I was born. By the time I was married, I was kind of hooked on it.

In the big picture, I still think it’s funny that people have such a problem with women who choose to keep their name. What if the tradition was to take your mother-in-law’s first name? Wouldn’t that be weird, having to suddenly go by a different first name just because you fell in love and wanted to spend the rest of your life with someone?

I would never tell another woman that she should keep her name or take her husband’s name; it’s her choice. One day my daughter may have to decide to take a new name or keep her birth name. My hope is that my decision will help her do what she wants, not what she’s expected to do because of tradition. If she wants to keep her last name or if she wants to take her husband’s last name will be her choice, regardless of what “most” say she should do.

Amy Gesenhues is a freelance writer who lives in Floyd County. You can read her daily commentaries at www.AmyWroteIt.Wordpress.com. E-mail her directly at amy@amywroteit.com.