I’m asked every now and then how in the world I pulled off a career giving naming advice with Utt-Grubb as a last name.
I know, I know. My last name isn’t exactly one that little girls grow up writing on the backs of their notebooks. It isn’t pretty. It doesn’t blend in. Someone once joked that taking naming advice from me must be like taking interior decorating advice from Ray Charles! That was funny! But seriously, my work with Name Counsel clients isn’t about which last name sounds better with their first name or which last name is easier to spell. Those things may or may not be important to an individual client, but they aren’t of primary importance in the big picture. What IS important is figuring out what last name is going to feel comfortable and meaningful for the long haul, and in that case I am most certainly practicing what I preach.
To understand why I do what I do, you have to first know my personal story. When I got married in 1998, I knew I wasn’t comfortable discarding my last name and taking my husband’s, but I wasn’t sure what else to do. I considered the other options that I knew about at the time, which were hyphenating my maiden name with his or simply keeping my last name. Neither my husband nor I thought at all about the possibility that he could modify his name. I agonized over the decision. I didn’t really know anyone who had made a nontraditional name choice, and I didn’t know where to turn for advice. Most of the ever-growing stack of wedding books on my kitchen table certainly didn’t address this issue, and if they did it was only to say that nontraditional last names created unnecessary hassles and confusion.
To make matters worse, my husband’s family was very conservative and did not approve of me at all. They made it abundantly clear that they did not want me marrying their son. A part of me, albeit an obviously delusional part, thought that taking my husband’s name would somehow make his traditional family approve of our marriage.
I reluctantly followed tradition and changed my last name to “Grubb”—and with that settled for what I knew deep down to be all wrong for me. I remember being excited to officially start a life with my husband, but that wearing only his last name simply didn’t feel right. I also remember giving emphatic instructions before the wedding to our officiant in hopes that she would at least pronounce us “Sam and Kelly Grubb” rather than “Mr. & Mrs. Samuel Grubb” after the ceremony, and I remember the knot in my stomach when she accidentally did the latter. I’ve been over that day countless times in my mind and it really should have been different. I arrived at that Charleston wedding garden as Kelly Utt, eager to celebrate my love for my husband with our family and friends, believing in the institution of marriage as I defined it and trusting that somehow I would come to terms with what I stood to lose. Although the ceremony was beautiful— no one “gave me away” like property or mentioned “obeying”—I walked away feeling, already, invisible as I was announced as Mrs. Samuel Grubb.
By the time I was pregnant with our first child two years later, using just the name “Grubb” had become nearly unbearable. Like so many women, I felt I had lost a part of my identity. Being called “Kelly Utt” had always been a source of familiarity and comfort, much like seeing the same curly hair and brown eyes staring back at me from the mirror every day of my life. I remember completing the information for our son’s birth certificate and being close to tears as I wrote his last name, “Grubb.” After all, he was just as much a part of me as he was my husband. His perfect little body had grown inside mine. It was shortly thereafter that I decided to hyphenate my last name and become “Kelly Utt-Grubb.” My husband and I agreed we would change our infant son’s last name too, and by the time our second son was born two and a half years later, my husband had decided to begin using the hyphenated name as well. I’ll never forget the day that Sam told me he was hyphenating his name. He said that as our boys grew up and he talked to them about things like marriage being a partnership and equality of the sexes, he wanted those values to be reflected in his actions. I was impressed.
For us, embracing Utt-Grubb was about embracing who we were– good, bad, or ugly. If one or both of us had had a pretty name I might have missed out on the self reflection that led me to a deeper understanding of how important names are to us all.
As you might imagine, the personal experience led naturally to the career when I realized no one had stepped up to provide guidance to those seeking help with family naming dilemmas. It’s still rather shocking that I am the only person doing this, but I certainly won’t complain. Every day I work with clients who for one reason or another are considering a name change, and every day I remember that knot in my stomach at the wedding garden. Names are closely tied to identity. They impact our lives in countless ways. They matter.
I wear my own name much like a wounded war hero wears a scar. I fought a battle for this name! The scar might not be pretty, but it reminds me of my strength. It reminds me of my integrity. It reminds me that I’m in a loving relationship. It reminds me that I’m setting a good example for my children. It reminds me of my purpose in this world. And I hope it reminds others that a meaningful last name is worth fighting for.
