She's so hard to please, but she's a forest fire

Eagle-eyed friends and acquaintances may have noticed by now that I didn't change my last name after I got married.

I considered it. (It's impossible to get hitched without at least acknowledging the choice, since marriage applications encouragingly offer fields for you to write your married name into. In our county, both GR and I were prompted to enter new names as applicable. More old-fashioned counties -- in addition to clinging to the gay-unfriendly labels of "bride" and "groom" -- provide space only for brides to indicate a name change.) That said, I don't recall doing a lot of hemming and hawing. I like my name. I am my name. When I thought about changing it, I felt an internal, knee-jerk NOPE twinge. GR was content to honor whatever I decided. His family are warm and wonderful people who I was pretty sure wouldn't take my declining as a personal insult.

Two and a half years later, there's been zero fallout. If any sass or side-eye has been directed my way, I'm oblivious to it. I've received no concerned and/or indignant questions from older relatives. A couple well-intentioned mistakes have occurred, in the form of mailed Christmas cards or invitations addressed to "Mr. and Mrs. Rapp," but even those were counterbalanced by other, cheeky friends who've sent us mail addressed to "Dr. and Mr. Martin."

In my personal circle of loved ones, the percentage of women who've taken their dudes' surnames seems to be hovering around 50-60%, which is much lower than the national average (80%). I'm lucky to live among folks who made either choice feel uncontroversial and fine. (Though it's worth pointing out that none of us are yet lucky enough to be living in an age where men changing their surnames isn't vanishingly rare. You're more likely to meet a vegan on the street than a man who took his wife's name. (Not a lot of people are vegans, guys.))

Other women tell stories of affronted in-laws and social backlash and husbands who pout and stew. Some communities really go out of their way to make both women and their husbands feel like crap for declining to participate in patrilineal naming. The only reason Hillary Clinton didn't stay Hillary Rodham is because political advisors insisted that her audacious name-keeping was losing her husband votes in the Arkansas gubernatorial race.

To be fair, other women also tell stories of feeling something like divine bliss at the prospect of taking their husbands' surnames. My sense is that these women don't tend to think of themselves as pawns of patriarchy. There's something really lovely about uniting with your spouse and embarking on your married life together under the same name! And not everyone feels particularly attached to the name they're born with. A lot of couples just like the idea of having a common family name, and adopting the dude's name is by far the path of least resistance to that goal. (Also, look at all the adorable "Mrs. X" merch you can get for your wedding day!)

Again, thanks to mostly luck and a bit of choice, my monkeysphere is mostly one that doesn't try to crush me with the weight of gendered expectations. When it came time to consider changing my name, I was granted relative autonomy, feeling neither the threat of social punishment nor the giddy comfort of conformity.

To put it another way: The air I breathe on a day-to-day basis is flavored feminist.

I didn't start using feminist as a term to describe myself or my views until I was well into undergrad, but when I did, it wasn't because I'd experienced any particular shift in perspective (or "consciousness raising," for the hippies among us). It was because I came to understand feminism as a word that accurately reflected all the things I already did and believed, plus all the gripes I had about how things should be. Embracing feminism was effortless because (twist!) I'd been a feminist the whole time. It was like searching around the house for your glasses, only to realize you're already wearing them.

I feel like I was born into a sort of atmospheric feminism, I guess. Even if no one called it that, and even if no one did it on purpose.

I've received some praise for keeping my surname -- not, like, trophies, but affirming comments from friends, who compliment me for doing my bit to topple the patriarchy. And while I agree that patriarchy-toppling is an admirable goal, it feels clear to me that the most "feminist" thing about my choice was the relative peace and quiet I was afforded when making it. My gratitude is directed at the air.