What's in A Name?

I thought I knew what I wanted.
I wanted to change my name once I got married.
I always thought that having my husband name is like the combining ourselves together into one family. I even practiced to sign my name with his last name and tried to figure out how I wanted to sign it.
I also knew that changing my last name is a hassle. But I knew that I would want to do it.

My name here in the United States is my first name and my middle name as my last name.
Long story short, that's because of how my full name appears in my birth certificate. So, when I applied for my passport, the doofus who handled my application put my very feminine-obviously-a-girl's-middle-name as the last name. And so when I applied for my US visa, I had to put my middle name as the last name. Just like in the passport.

So, actually right now, I'm without a last name. My last name is my middle name.

My dad once asked if after I got married I'm going to change my name to my last name combined with my husband's last name. You know, just like Hillary Rodham Clinton.
And although I never want to go that route, I didn't tell him. I just said I'm still thinking about it.
But I actually lied.
At that time I was angry at my dad for his blatant attempt to make me do a prenup (failed, by the way). All I wanted to do was to be on my own. Definitely, keeping his last name was not on the top ten my list. Or top two hundreds at that time.

When a coworker asked me a similar question to my dad's, I said, no, I'm going to completely take my future husband's name.
He said, "So, then, you are not a feminist."
I said, "I never was a feminist."

There's this romanticism in my head when I thought about changing my name to my husband's last name. The very long engagement, for four and a half years along with the immigration drama, the wedding dress that was sitting there in my closet, mocking me, made me really long to be a part of him. To be called Mrs. ChicagoDimCorner.
How nice it would sound.

Now, that I am married to him, there's no stopping me. I can change my name. But I no longer feel the compelling need to do so.
If I change my name, people will think that I am a Manadonese.
But... I am a Betawi. I am a proud Betawi. Yes, I am Chinese descendant, but I am a Betawi.
My dad's ancestors landed on East Java then my grandparents moved to Betawi. My mom's ancestors actually landed directly on Betawi land.
My mom and dad lived in Menteng when they dated. One of my grandmas wore the Chinese kebaya outfit on daily basis when she was still alive.
They were true Betawi. They spoke the accent and lingo too.

There's something about adopting my husband's name that makes me think that as if I am turning my back on myself and my family's history.

I still want to be a part of my husband. Very much.
I honestly don't really care much about being a part of his big Menadonese family, as sweet as they can be.
This might sound silly, but adopting my husband's name is more like choosing to be a part of his big family, choosing have the same name as his mom, his dad, his cousins.
But abandoning my parents' name, my brother's name, my nephews' name.

So, I'm standing at this intersection of names: his last name, my last name, combined last name or my feminine middle name as a last name.
And I actually like my middle name as my last name.
It represent me. Just me. Two very feminine names combined into my name. The name that I have been using for the last 9 years.

And that doofus who messed up my passport,... I'm starting to forgive him.
I might even consider stopping calling him a doofus.
Maybe...