A rose by any other name.....

The changing of the last name is something that most brides-to-be spend a lot of time debating. Should I take his? Should I hyphenate? Should I just keep my own? Coming from a Polish family that I like to refer to as "hardcore Catholic", some traditions are not to be messed with. One of those traditions is the name change; even if I decided to keep my maiden name, my stubborn grandmother would still refer to me by my husbands surname. Why fight city hall? Also, I like the symbolism of sharing a name with my husband. To me, it represents the coming together of a new family unit (although I agree that you do not necessarily need to take the man's name for this to happen - he could just as easily take yours). Also, as a teacher, I hate the fact that sometimes a mother and child do not share the same last name. I know that this is a pet peeve based purely on my laziness, but looking up the proper name of the mother is a pain!

Nevertheless, to me the process of changing my name is particularly bittersweet. This is in large part due to my quite complicated and impossible to pronounce first name. You see, my name is a very, very popular name in Poland. In 2004, the name was the 5th most popular baby girl name in Poland. My name is the equivalent of a Jessica, Jennifer, or Amanda in Poland. My name is Agnieszka. As hard as "Agnieszka" is to pronounce, it is even harder to spell. The "z" in the middle always throws people off. Nevertheless, it is a very pretty name, and once people get past the shock, most of them love it.

When I came to Canada in 1992, I didn't speak a word of English. On my first day of school, my aunt introduced me to the principal by the English translation of my: Agnes. Honestly, I hate that name. It is quite possibly the ugliest name I have ever heard. The name was reserved for great aunts world wide. Nevertheless, the name stuck, and I was known as Agnes during elementary and high school, never really feeling the name belonged to me.

When I started university, I decided to use my real, full name, no matter how difficult people found it. I had regained my identity, and felt like myself again.

So you see, names are very important to me. I am not particularly attached to my last name, but Matthew's last name is extremely French Canadian. I am worried about how my very Polish first name will combine with his very French one. Still, I look at the bright side and tell myself that my new name will make me the poster child for Canadian multiculturalism.