For Claudia Elmasian-Delp, the problems started on the first night of the honeymoon when she arrived at a Toronto hotel and found the reservation she had made in her own name had been changed to ”Mrs. Michael Delp.”
”I burst into tears,” recalls Elmasian-Delp, 35, director of the library at Interlochen Arts Academy near Traverse City, Mich. ”I was terribly upset. Suddenly Claudia Elmasian was gone and in her place was Mrs. Delp. My husband was understanding, but he really couldn`t empathize. Men never lose their names. They don`t even think about it.”
Six years and one child later, Mike Delp still seems a little baffled by his wife`s outburst in Toronto. ”I didn`t rob her of her identity,” says Delp, 37, sounding tired. He is director of the creative writing program for the school. ”I didn`t force her to marry me at gunpoint or anything. . . . The whole issue (of names) is so insignificant. It`s very, very unimportant.”
But when their daughter, Jaime, was born three years ago, Delp was adamant that she bear his surname. (”Delp is more American than Elmasian.”) And he was equally adamant that the name not be hyphenated. (”I won`t deal with people with two names. I won`t even look at the middle name. I just won`t.”)
”He said there was no way he would lose his last name,” says Elmasian-Delp. ”He`s a writer and his family is very proud of his name. So Jamie`s middle name is Elmasian (an Armenian name) and her last name is Delp. There is no hyphen and she goes by Delp.”
”Most people just call me Claudia Delp now,” she says, sounding a bit wistful. ”I guess it`s easier to pronounce. I do miss my name, but it`s easier to let it go. . . . My other friends are dropping their hyphens, too, especially when they have children.”
More than a decade after many women began to keep their names upon marriage, the question of what to call oneself and one`s children remains confusing and painful, especially in an era of frequent divorce and remarriage.
No law states that a woman must take her husband`s name upon marriage, yet the majority of couples still stick with tradition. But many women view losing their name–a basic, powerful form of identity since birth–as loss of self and a symbol of subordinate status they don`t believe in.
Hyphenations, once hailed as the perfect solution to the name game, often are seen as too much of a mouthful and impractical after the first marriage.
”I did hyphens until the divorce. And when I remarried, I said that`s it. No more. One name, my name,” says one Detroit professional who now goes by her maiden name, but doesn`t want to be quoted because the subject is ”too sensitive.”
Other women interviewed for this story later backed out of having their names used, claiming family or professional pressure.
The ”one name-my name” solution usually works fine–until the baby arrives. At that point, says Priscilla Ruth MacDougall, a Wisconsin lawyer who has been on the front lines of the legal battles for names for 13 years, ”the whole subject becomes more controversial than nuclear war. You cannot believe the emotion, hostility and fear that come up. Men think they own children. . . . It`s almost like cattle: You pay for them. You brand them . . . and of course, they`re terrified of losing that.”
No statute requires children to take their father`s surname at birth. But patronymic tradition runs deep.
”Baby-naming is the bottom line,” says Dr. Harriet Lerner, a psychologist at the Menninger Foundation in Topeka, Kan. ”That`s when you find out whose name is really important. And it`s almost always the man`s.”
Most women say it`s a matter of sheer convenience rather than philosophy. ”A hyphenated name would be too cumbersome,” says Minda Tilchin, a 33-year-old Southfield, Mich., social worker whose baby daughter shares her father`s surname. ”I thought about giving her my name, but only briefly. It`s hard enough for me to explain that my name is different from my husband`s when I sign up for charge cards or order symphony tickets. Why should I make a child deal with it? It`s too much of a burden.”
”My husband is older than me and more traditional and it was just more important to him,” adds Susan Ulintz, a Detroit woman who married three years ago for the first time at age 35 and took her husband`s name. Their infant son is also named Ulintz.
”What if Jaime grew up and married someone else with a hyphenated name?
Then what?” asks Claudia Elmasian-Delp.
Lerner is not impressed with such arguments. Nor does she believe that if women are really secure about themselves it doesn`t matter what their name is. ”These are all simply excuses,” she says firmly. ”Men would never find any of them acceptable if the tables were turned. I mean, let`s say the cultural rules dictated every time a black man and a white man formed a business together, the business could bear only the white man`s name. Can you imagine black people saying, `Oh, two names are too difficult. Oh, it doesn`t matter. Oh, his name is prettier anyway.`
”Of course not. Because it`s very clear that names are powerful shapers. They determine how we view ourselves and society. But women have a hard time being truthful about this . . . . I am constantly amazed at how deep our wish is to protect men and keep them in a one-up position–even at the expense of our own names.”
Lerner says she is not insisting every woman name her child after herself, but only that women start talking honestly about the issue.
And at this point, it is only fair to point out that Lerner was born Harriet Goldhor (pronounced Gold-hoar) and survived an early adolescence of being called Henrietta Whorehead. Thirteen years ago, when she married at age 28 and became Harriet Lerner, it was with a feeling of great relief. Her two sons, ages 8 and 10, are named Lerner and whenever she thinks about adding Goldhor with a hyphen, she remembers she was also called Silverslut.
