Portrait of a newlywed couple
getty
In many cultures there is substantial weight behind last names. How they were developed and passed down, and how policies over time have impacted them are useful in understanding larger patterns that have propelled change and led to gender inequality.
In Japan, having a last name didn’t become mandatory until the late 19th century, but it became increasingly important that husbands and wives have the same last name as each other after marriage—meaning one spouse would have to forfeit his or her birth name. This rule is still in effect and continues to be reinforced, despite a recent poll reflecting that 70% of respondents support selective dual last names. This disparity between the law of the land and the people’s choice can create disappointment for women, especially when wives have been disproportionately adopting their husbands’ last names at a rate of 96%. In a March story for the Washington Post, Japanese journalist Julia Mio Inuma documents her own experience in changing her last name after marriage, and illustrates how the rigidity of this tradition has taken hold of her identity. Analyzing last name trends in other cultures, both throughout history and in the present day can shed some light on the significance of this social marker, the weight it carries for men and women alike and how it affects women’s rights on a systemic level.
Some of Europe’s first recorded last names can be traced to the early 900s in Ireland, and were centered around family. Familial tie, and identification of that by appellation determined critical facets of one’s life, such one’s work and property ownership. Many of the last names were the first names of one’s father or grandfather to indicate more clearly which family line someone was from. It became a representation of one’s life, and one that governed so much of an individual’s present and future—laying out how they would be viewed and treated in society. In her article, Inuma describes how after changing to her husband’s surname, she felt stripped of the identity she carried her entire life up until marriage. She had grown with her birth name and in a sweeping change found herself essentially deleting that marker for a brand new one in all official documents. But this conversion wasn’t only on paper; it seeped into Inuma’s everyday life—in the professional name she had built for herself and even when making restaurant reservations. Her birth name was so ingrained in her that she was “forced to build a new identity” in the marriage.
For nearly 2,000 years in ancient China, until the Shang Dynasty, which ended in 1046 B.C., matrilineal surnames were in effect. The high level placed on maternal lineage could have influenced how women were perceived and treated for years to come. Evidence from around 16 B.C. shows a higher affinity toward matrilineal kinship in the royal family, a model for the rest of society. This potentially shifted the family paradigm by correlating female power through last name with greater respect and treatment toward women. Similarly, in England before the 17th century women had last names that reflected their own qualities or occupations. They kept those names after marriage and often passed them on to their husbands and children. This quickly faded when the Enlightenment and increased colonialism and imperialism ushered in a more patriarchal structure and with it, a decline in women’s rights.
Granting couples the option to make that decision themselves—which spouse’s name to adopt, or even the decision to have the same or different last names as each other—would paint a more gender-equal picture and demonstrate that there is no preference either way. In the United States, the process favors a wife adopting her husband’s last name as opposed to a husband taking on his wife’s. This generally applies to same-sex as well as opposite-sex marriages. Women have a statutory right to switch to her husband’s name in all 50 states while men only have this right in 8 states. In the other 42 states, he needs a court order to take on his wife’s name. Thus, the law essentially favors men maintaining their birth names, indirectly pushing women to make the change, much like Japan.
An online poll of 7,000 men and women taken in late 2020 in Japan revealed that 70% of respondents support a selective dual last name system. Only 14% were opposed to the idea of couples having separate last names. In her article Inuma emphasizes the dichotomy of this data and the government’s continued resistance. In February, Japan’s minister for women’s empowerment and gender equality Tamayo Marukawa opposed a law that would allow women to keep their birth names upon marriage. Resisting this subtle call for change by the people clings on to the current structure that offers a choice, but gives preferential treatment for the last names of husbands.
History proves that there are many emotions and social and professional ties involved in carrying a last name, and that removing it to bring in a replacement would be like removing a part of oneself. Because of the force of this change and the indelible impact it can have on some people, allowing them to keep their birth names after marriage in a place like Japan, or removing obstacles for men to change their names would help improve the status of women.
