Monday, June 2, 2008
Taking someone’s last name after marriage reminds me of the kids that like to put labels on everything they own. Like the kid at summer camp that had to write his name on every shirt, water bottle and toiletry he brought with him. Why do I need to take a man’s name? It’s not like some neighbor kid is going to steal me other wise. And if we are going to continue this slave/master practice of stepping under the Patriarchal umbrella, then let’s call it what it is, skip the diamond “consolation prize for submitting a part of my soul” and just write “Mrs. Tom Jones” in sharpie, and all caps, on the back of my neck. That way, if I ever run off or lose my way, they know to return me to my rightful owner.