A Bosch by any other name…
Posted by Tanja Estella Bosch | 16 Feb, 2008
Given that I’ve spent the large majority of this weekend working, I allow myself the luxury of a frivolous post. Is this what it’s come to? This is what I do for fun these days? Well, last night’s fun involved converting wma files to mp3 on a mac (more fun than you’d imagine), so I guess this is an improvement. Anyway, as if the start of term, convening 3 courses and teaching 4 (in the 1st semester alone) isn’t enough, I’m also in the midst of buying a house – yes, we’re finally selling out, but rest assured there’s no metaphorical white picket fence in sight. So I’m on the phone with the attorneys and they’re asking for our names and personal information. “So you’re both unmarried”. “No”, I respond. “We’re married” (it’s a long story, involving ceteris paribus and apricot brandy in rural Southeastern Ohio). “To EACH OTHER??” “Yes, to each other”, I answer wearily.
What’s so odd about the fact that I kept my maiden name? After all, it didn’t stop my mother-in-law from giving me a cow (literally). Yes, I suppose I am a feminist (just by virtue of being a [black] woman), but it was all purely practical. They’d already printed my PhD (and various other meaningless certificates), I was too lazy to queue at Home Affairs for a new passport and ID, and given that I’m also an environmentalist of sorts (I recycle), the thought of all the extra space a double-barrelled surname would take, just seemed like a terrible waste of paper…though I suppose South Africans have mastered the use of the hyphen – much better than our appalling apostrophe usage. My husband, the progressive modern man, doesn’t seem to mind. He must have read, “Don’t sweat the small stuff”, and then figured that we could rather argue about how many of the Super 14 fixtures he’ll be chained to the bar for.
I’d never really thought about it before, but after all the questions this week (from other women), I started to think that perhaps surnames are one of the most powerful tools used by patriarchal systems to deny women personal identity, much like prison inmates or soldier recruits are given a number. Our son takes his father’s surname, and I honestly couldn’t give a toss if a few small-minded individuals think he was born “out of wedlock.” Our dog, on the other hand, takes the hyphenated combination last surname (given the unlikelihood of her mating with another hyphenated surnamed dog). There are, of course, many exceptions to this norm: Iceland, Spain, some parts of Africa, Iran, Yemen, Jordan, among others. But I would have had a difficult time explaining this to the bank who just said unashamedly, “That’s umm... nice. Well you had better bring your marriage certificate along with you then.”
It actually makes having suffered through a PhD worthwhile. I can use my academic title and my maiden surname and suffer through the Woolworths cashier asking me, “Are you a real doctor?” - instead of having Mrs incorrectly tacked on to my maiden name (that just seems wrong). And when Dr Jekyll owes money, Mrs Hyde can answer the phone and say that she’s not in. I suppose, in the end, like much of today’s “shallow, satisfying, lipstick feminism”, one can have it both ways.
What’s so odd about the fact that I kept my maiden name? After all, it didn’t stop my mother-in-law from giving me a cow (literally). Yes, I suppose I am a feminist (just by virtue of being a [black] woman), but it was all purely practical. They’d already printed my PhD (and various other meaningless certificates), I was too lazy to queue at Home Affairs for a new passport and ID, and given that I’m also an environmentalist of sorts (I recycle), the thought of all the extra space a double-barrelled surname would take, just seemed like a terrible waste of paper…though I suppose South Africans have mastered the use of the hyphen – much better than our appalling apostrophe usage. My husband, the progressive modern man, doesn’t seem to mind. He must have read, “Don’t sweat the small stuff”, and then figured that we could rather argue about how many of the Super 14 fixtures he’ll be chained to the bar for.
I’d never really thought about it before, but after all the questions this week (from other women), I started to think that perhaps surnames are one of the most powerful tools used by patriarchal systems to deny women personal identity, much like prison inmates or soldier recruits are given a number. Our son takes his father’s surname, and I honestly couldn’t give a toss if a few small-minded individuals think he was born “out of wedlock.” Our dog, on the other hand, takes the hyphenated combination last surname (given the unlikelihood of her mating with another hyphenated surnamed dog). There are, of course, many exceptions to this norm: Iceland, Spain, some parts of Africa, Iran, Yemen, Jordan, among others. But I would have had a difficult time explaining this to the bank who just said unashamedly, “That’s umm... nice. Well you had better bring your marriage certificate along with you then.”
It actually makes having suffered through a PhD worthwhile. I can use my academic title and my maiden surname and suffer through the Woolworths cashier asking me, “Are you a real doctor?” - instead of having Mrs incorrectly tacked on to my maiden name (that just seems wrong). And when Dr Jekyll owes money, Mrs Hyde can answer the phone and say that she’s not in. I suppose, in the end, like much of today’s “shallow, satisfying, lipstick feminism”, one can have it both ways.
Assuming that Bosch was your father's surname and not your mother's, exactly how feminist is it to go by what's rather insultingly referred to as one's "maiden" name?
Having adopted my husband's surname on marriage - for convenience, after a lifetime of spelling my former surname and having it mangled on pronunciation attempts by the uninformed - I considered, upon divorce, doing something a little more feminist. But the furthest I could trace back surnames along the maternal line was my maternal grandmother, where I uncovered a family feud surrounding the correct spelling / name (there being some ethnic prejudice involved) and so finally gave up and left things as they were. It wasn't so much the trees that would have to die that put me off as the length of the home affairs queues, the banks, municipalities, service companies and everyone else who has a small stake in one's identity. And then try to explain to someone why a clutch of degrees all contain different names? I think not.
So now I'm just faced with the anomaly of being called "Miss " which is clearly wrong, "Mrs " which is no longer correct, or having someone not too discreetly look for sproutings of axial hair on spying "Ms".
Posted by Ms Taken 18 Feb 2008, 07:16