I’ve been a ball of conflicting voices.

You see, I’m in the process of getting a divorce from my husband, a good man who has unfortunately started down a new path, one very different from mine. While I love him and truly loved being his wife, I’m ready to get started with this new life of mine so I’ve been thinking about taking my maiden name back.

A glimpse into the ball of conflicting voices:

“It’s just a name!”

“But everyone knows me as Guberman. No one’ll recognize me with my new name.”

“That’s just plain silly. You lived with that name for 21 years, should be easy to revert back.”

“What other name could I take? How about ‘Burns’, mom’s maiden name?”

“They’re all patriarchal family names! Besides doesn’t ‘Burns’ remind you of that creepy guy from the Simpsons? Let’s make up something new. Zawadi! Your African name.”

“Nah that doesn’t have any zing - Julie Zawadi.”

“And Julie Hochgesang does? No one ever remembers how to spell it, let alone pronounce it!”

“Who cares?”

Yeah so all these voices, all these thoughts are churning about in this ball of mine. For the most part, I’m confident about changing my name. But something’s off, something’s strange. I’m reluctant to. Why this uncertainty? I’m sure part of it is fear of starting a new life, of taking on a new identity of sorts, of letting go of who I was for the last few years, of investing so much of who I am in a name. But it really is just a few letters on paper.

My friends will recall a similar dilemma I had six years ago before I got married. I posted a discussion in a chat room with my friends - “Should I change my name?” My initial reaction, “There’s no way I’m changing my name ever!!” I knew that it was all part of the patriarchal ploy to oppress women and designate them as property of men. Oh yes, then I was indignant at the slightest whiff of chivalry. Open a door for me? I glared at you for implying that I was a lesser and weaker creature. Say “ladies first” and I would huff and walk away.

The discussion yielded many comments and suggestions. And I started to re-think my initial reaction. This small julie in me said, “Don’t you want to have the same name as your husband?” Another julie said “His name is pretty cool, it even rhymes with your first two names - Julie Ann. It has a nice ring to it.” Another julie said “No one ever remembers how to spell our name! Isn’t it annoying?” From one small julie to another, the agreement spread like wildfire and they all banded together to convince me that I should change my name legally. I gave in. So for the last five years I’ve lived as Julie Ann Guberman. I liked it. My initials were cool - JAG. I even preferred my new signature. I could never master the capitalized H. It was the perfect name for my new life.

But now the discussion arises again. Which name? I’ve thought about it. And thought about it. And thought about it. Yeah, I’m going back to Julie Ann Hochgesang. Guess I need to start practicing my signature again. But I always did like the initials - JAH (it’s the same as the Rastafarian word for God, hmm…). And, I’m never ever changing it again. Now I’m a ball of one certain voice, “I am Julie Ann Hochgesang.”


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