The Lens:
As I have mentioned in previous posts, I am a fan of the show “Finding Your Roots with Henry Louis Gates, Jr.” If you are unfamiliar with the show, Dr. Gates and his team research the ancestry of notable people. I have also mentioned in past posts I am a direct descendant of Jose Francisco Ortega. All of this, along with a gift subscription to Ancestry.com, sparked an interest in researching my family tree.
In my research, I started with the Ortega’s. My mom and her sister took quite a bit of pride in the name “Ortega.” I do, too.
Think about your name – first, last, doesn’t matter. What does your name mean to you? It is who you are, right? A given, right? Or maybe not.
There is one recurring revelation in “Finding Your Roots” of people of African descent. Most often, they had at least one ancestor who had been enslaved.
Each time an enslaved ancestor is found, Dr. Gates relays how hard it is to research enslaved people as they were not listed by name in censuses, only by identifiers such as age, sex. Researchers look at census information of the slaveholder and the descriptions of their slaves to identify probable ancestors. Then, they look through other records like estate settlements to confirm their findings.
Not surprising, this journey into the life of an enslaved person is often emotional, even if not a surprise. No matter how many times I hear it, it still stuns me. One of the things I find most disturbing is the name.
In the last episode I watched, Dr. Gates and his guest had a short discussion on the issue of name. It went like this:
Guest: “It’s amazing to have a name, because names are so difficult. You know, we are so nameless so often.”
Gates: “Right.”
Guest: “Um.”
Gates: “And that’s a way of empowering . . .”
Guest: “Yeah.”
Gates: “the people who control names,”
Guest: “Yeah.”
Gates: “disempowering the people whose name you can take away.”
Guest: “Exactly.”
They were talking about seeing the name of the guest’s great (I don’t know how many greats) grandmother. Enslaved people, upon their freedom, usually took the last name of their enslaver, thereby passing that name down the generations. Centuries later, the enslaved are still tethered to their enslaver.
Today, there is no way to determine a slave’s real name. It is gone. Once they were forced onto those ships, they lost their identity forever. It is a cruel irony to lose your name and end up carrying the name of the person who took away, not just your name, but your personhood.
The Refraction:
It is amazing the number of ways a woman is treated differently than a man based solely on her sex . . . and her name is a big one. A very old law decided once a woman married she was, at best, an extension of her husband, and at worst, his possession through the legal doctrine called coverture. Women could not own any kind of property, couldn’t enter into contracts, etc. You can find similarities to slavery in coverture – a husband basically owning his wife.
I know there are places where men still take ownership of their wives upon marriage, but the United States isn’t one of them. So, why do women still take their husband’s name?
If you asked women, they would probably give a variety of answers from wanting to have a singular name for their burgeoning family, tradition, etc.
Still, it goes back to possession, personhood.
As I trace my family tree, it is so much easier to trace the patriarchs than the matriarchs. For the women, sometimes finding their maiden name, key to family lines, can be difficult. Other times, even their first name is elusive – think of Mrs. John Smith.
I read an article a while ago about Rep. Nancy Pelosi. The male journalist talks about finding an old photo of Ms. Pelosi filed under D’Alesandro, her maiden name, not Pelosi. He concludes the article by saying, “While the photo was technically not misfiled, its discovery is a reminder of the surprises that can be found, after some digging, in The Times’s archives.”
I wrote the journalist a letter taking exception both to the idea of the photo being “technically” misfiled and the idea of what surprises can be found by “digging.”
First, I said that the photo was not misfiled, period. Ms. Pelosi was Ms. D’Alesandro at the time of the photo. It was filed as it should be.
Second, no journalist, when researching a married woman, should consider it digging by searching under her maiden name. Women have lives before they are married. It is simply doing a comprehensive search. (I’ll note he wrote a kind response to my letter.)
About the time I got married, the trend of women keeping their own names (or hyphenating their name) was just starting. If I had to do it all over again, I would have kept my maiden name. Not because I am a feminist (though I probably could be considered one), but because of the hassle of having a last name different from what is on my birth certificate.
A few years ago, I needed my marriage certificate to show how my name changed from what is on my birth certificate. I don’t recall the reason but this was not the first time my name had been an issue. When I returned to college on my early 40s, I had to do quite a bit of work to get all of my records synced under my married name.
Here we are in 2026 and this issue is more prevalent than ever. The Republican party’s attempt to tighten voting security due to non-existent voter fraud disempowers married women who take their husband’s name in a way that men are not disempowered.
This issue is further complicated by the attitudes of some men – men who adamantly want their brides to take their name. I can’t help but wonder why that is so important. I can come up with no other reason than the idea that she is now his.
When I had to go to City Hall to get my marriage certificate to show how I got from one name to another, I told the female clerk, “If you get married, don’t change your name.”
I’m not sure how many women I have said that to since, but I say it more often these days. First, you don’t belong to anyone but yourself. And, second, don’t disadvantage yourself in a way that men are not disadvantaged.
Simply, people don’t own people.