As a soon-to-be-wed woman, I never thought I would get the "new name jitters." After all, I am a Filipina born and bred, and along with the culture comes the inborn machismo we inherited from the Spanish (by the way, congratulations on the World Cup!) I spent my childhood like most young Filipinas, doodling my first name along with the last name of the boy I happened to have a crush on that week, fantasizing about our happy marriage, the big house we would live in and how cute our 6 children would be. (Um yeah... that was 20-odd years ago).
It started innocuously enough when my fiance and I finally opened our joint bank account. I was setting up my online banking and the computer asked me to choose another user name, as mvaleriano was "already in use" (who is this other mvaleriano? And did she marry into the name Valeriano? Because, if so, I'd like to argue that THAT name was already in use as of 1977). I had a brief flash of inspiration - why not use my married name to kick off my new bank account, and thus my new financial reality?
So there it was: MSalta. My new username, my new identity.
Who on earth is M Salta? Someone who will not legally exist until our wedding in September. Someone who has lived her whole life under another name, had kids in school call her by her surname ("Hoy, Valeriano!"), has all the hangups and psychological associations with a long, multisyllable, vaguely Italian sounding, hard to spell word at the beginning of all her legal documents. Also someone whose ancestors are quite well known (Col. Napoleon Valeriano, you can't make his name up, was a famous army commander in the 1950s in the Philippines. Ditto for my uncle, Vic Valeriano, who is in the US Army Ranger Hall of Fame).
Beginning September, my name will be literally cut in half. The upside: no more spending an extra 5 minutes spelling my name out over the phone when making transactions. No more people asking if I am Italian (although ironically, Salta is short for Saltalamacchia, and my husband's ancestors are Italian).
The downside: well, I just never thought about being called anything different before. It's like someone giving you a new birthday - suddenly, something you have lived with your entire life is completely changed. And just like a new birthday, it has ramifications. If you were born in June and suddenly had your birthday changed to December, you can now expect to have only 1 birthday/Christmas gift (trust me, I'm a December baby). You will also have to start rethinking your birthday parties, from beach BBQs to ski trips. And what about your new astrological sign?
Will people think better of me with a shorter, less ethnic sounding name? Will they hear my name on the phone and assume I am a different color, socio-economic background or education level than when I had my old name? Should I do the witness protection thing and change my first name too?
And what happens now that people can't recognize my last name anymore? What about the pride I used to feel when people said, "Valeriano? Are you related to that Valeriano? Oh how wonderful!" Granted, there are fantastic Saltas in the world, and obviously I will love to finally be a part of my wonderful in-laws, who have been nothing but loving and supportive. But a part of me is sad that my name will no longer reflect my lineage, or the time I have put into making my family proud by burnishing their name through my accomplishments.
It makes me briefly think of sticking to my guns and saying no, I will keep my name, dammit. I've worked way too hard on it to give it up as a sign of "belonging" to someone. I am nobody's property. And while I'm at it I shall burn my bra!
But really, isn't that why I am marrying? To belong to another person and and embrace another tribe? To have my kids belong to a family and not 2 individuals? If I wanted to keep my name I could have easily gone Hollywood and had a Brad and Angelina relationship, partners for life but not wedded spouses. But like I said - A Filipina born and bred. I don't roll with casual partnerships. And without the ceremony before God and man making the union official, it would never feel right. And I guess... neither would keeping my name.
What's in a re-name? I guess I am about to find out. And I hope (which I think it will) that the new name just adds another layer of richness, another chapter in the book of my life. If people read into me far enough, they'll see who I've come from and where I've been. Then I can spell my old name out for them and relish the fact that I don't have to do it as often anymore.
