name change
My legal name is not actually Miyabi Matsushima anymore. I've changed my surname to take my husband's name.
It's is a beautiful classic French name, and I'm surprised that I'm still not *completely* used to it being MY name. Every time I hear my name being called at work or anywhere else for that matter, it takes me a few seconds to register, "Oh shit, that's me!"
In some ways, it's a little weird. A part of me feels adrift in the sea of ancestral roots. Like I've walked away from a Matsushima history and adopted a new identity and legacy of some ancestors I know very little about.
Yet the other part of me feels un-wavered, because I don't feel any need to prove to others who I still am - Japanese. Or rather... Asian.
The reasons for my name change are the obvious ones. I wanted to be connected to my husband and (when/if we have some) children. I wanted my family to be a tight little unit. Avoid confusions. And I think it's a nice tradition.
After I got married and changed my name, I took a few hours one day, to visit the bank with my husband.
After the epic of filling out forms to combine bank accounts, the clerk went over the documents one last time. She spotted that I had signed as "Miyabi Matsushima" and refused to process the documents unless I signed with my new name. I refused back. Arguing that it didn't matter what I signed, as long as it was the same EVERY time. Grr.
The clerk and I had a little argument, which resulted in us walking outside to take "a little break". We went to a nearby cafe and I practiced my new signature - the one I'd use for the rest of my LIFE - on bits of soggy paper napkins.
It's is a beautiful classic French name, and I'm surprised that I'm still not *completely* used to it being MY name. Every time I hear my name being called at work or anywhere else for that matter, it takes me a few seconds to register, "Oh shit, that's me!"
In some ways, it's a little weird. A part of me feels adrift in the sea of ancestral roots. Like I've walked away from a Matsushima history and adopted a new identity and legacy of some ancestors I know very little about.
Yet the other part of me feels un-wavered, because I don't feel any need to prove to others who I still am - Japanese. Or rather... Asian.
The reasons for my name change are the obvious ones. I wanted to be connected to my husband and (when/if we have some) children. I wanted my family to be a tight little unit. Avoid confusions. And I think it's a nice tradition.
After I got married and changed my name, I took a few hours one day, to visit the bank with my husband.
After the epic of filling out forms to combine bank accounts, the clerk went over the documents one last time. She spotted that I had signed as "Miyabi Matsushima" and refused to process the documents unless I signed with my new name. I refused back. Arguing that it didn't matter what I signed, as long as it was the same EVERY time. Grr.
The clerk and I had a little argument, which resulted in us walking outside to take "a little break". We went to a nearby cafe and I practiced my new signature - the one I'd use for the rest of my LIFE - on bits of soggy paper napkins.
