My wife and I realized something just other day: During our parents’ generation, of course, all the mothers changed their names. Then, when it became our generation’s turn, all of the women — both because they had achieved a certain level of notoriety in their professional lives and as a clear assertion that they were their own people — the vast majority of women kept their last names. But, we realized, all of our younger female friends, or at least the vast majority, have taken their husband’s names.
It’s strange to think that years hence, some will look back on the 80s and 90s, on this abberation, saying, “What were they trying to prove?”
I see the development as a good thing. While I didn’t aruge with my wife that she should take my family’s name, I don’t like being called by her last name, as often happens, and it is quite inconvenient that my wife has a different last name than my daughter and me. That’s especially true when we go for teacher meetings, etc.
I love the fact that our female friends, even ones just 10 years younger, seem to have taken the stance, “Well, of course we are our own people, with our own careers … who would question that?” It doesn’t seem strange or old fashioned to them at all.
So brava, my friends. I’m glad our generation, that weird forgotten generation in between the Baby Boomers and the following one, was of some use.