The Name Change Game
The
name change has been a rite of passage for women throughout the “ages.” A woman
takes on her husband’s name as a sign of possession—ownership—adopting one as a
family name. Take the change of name at marriage however you want to describe it. As I embark on this journey to marriage, I was faced with a tough
question… Do I change my name?
It is
nothing against my husband to be or his name. In fact, a name change would be
easier for my twelve letter last name that took me all of my first year of
preschool to figure out how to finally spell (Thanks to a song from my Dad). I’d
be going from that long, difficult to pronounce twelve letter Polish last name
to a short four letter, easily recognizable name. And somehow—I am hesitant.
What’s in a name anyway?
Well, I
started a long introspective voyage as to why my name was important to me. I
thought about what I had done as a “Bartosiewicz.” I thought about all my life changes
that happened as a “Bartosiewicz.” I thought about every first day of school
when the teacher would glance down the attendance roster and stare silently,
flustered at the last name before her. I always knew she was stuck on my name.
I’d politely raise my hand and state my name. The teacher was usually grateful.
Having the last name that was so difficult for everyone to pronounce gave me
unique opportunities. It gave me a chance to stand out. It gave me an
unbelievable knack to pronounce or spell other people’s difficult names. I’d
always try to get it right because I knew they (like me) like when people try.
But I thought about being a Bartosiewicz—and what that name meant.
Bartosiewicz
is a Polish name, however, my ancestry is Irish and Hungarian as well.
Bartosiewicz links me to my cousins, my paternal side of the family. When I look
at my last name, I think back to my great-grandparents who came to the United
States with next to nothing. I’m unique among most of my friends. My family
lineage is easily traced back to the “mother land” (though for me it’s three “mother
lands”) for three generations. I am a proud third generation American, whose
last name means a bit more. It reminds me every single day that my
great-grandparents came to this country unable to read or write in English.
They took the most humble jobs, and they taught every one of their children and
grandchildren the importance of education. They without question handed their
sons to their new homeland to fight in wars so far away. They did not know if
their sons would come home—but they trusted. The next generation went a bit
further. My grandparents graduated from high school, and they were for the most
part bilingual. They understood English, they were educated, and to my
great-grandparents that was something to be proud of. My grandparents taught my
parents (and aunts and uncles) to always invest in education, do the best you
can, and remember who you are. My parents (and aunts and uncles) became the first
in their families to go to college. To my grandparents (and my
great-grandparents who saw the track my parents were on) this was an incredible achievement. Just two generations before, my grandparents worked humble jobs.
To them, college was a dream, and to my parents it was a reality. I grew up
(along with my cousins) with a strong ethic to work hard for everything. I
learned that education was liberating, freeing, and an investment in my future.
I worked hard and pressed. I achieved a dream—that I can only wonder what they
would think—I received a Juris Doctor from law school. I went to graduate
school. The dream that in just three generations, immigrants who came to this
country with nothing, could achieve this achievement to me—symbolizes my last
name and everything it ties me to.
So this
article isn’t so much about what dilemma to do to solve the name change game—to
me it’s a reflective trip back to realize where I came from. It’s going to be a
hard decision, but I cannot totally abandon the “Bartosiewicz” roots from my
name. It links me too much to my past—from everything we have done—to everything
that will be done.
So
brides to be, women, feminists, and liberals—and ALL ladies—I encourage you
before you change your name to think about it a bit more. Not so much in a
professional sense, but think about where it links you to.

