London is a pretty special place for me. It's similar enough to New York for me to feel secure here. But, at the same time I'm reminded from time to time that I am definitely a foreigner in a foreign land as the familiar gives way to a different cultural norm that smacks me in the face with the need to test my 'progressive' credentials and offer an opinion.
Last Sunday was a day like any other. I was sitting at a desk with a friend who was opening the mail from the prior day. I, myself, was making a brave if unsuccessful attempt to complete a few letters that should have been posted a week prior. While I was writing, my friend took a break from the post and checked his email. I saw this glint of happiness in his eye as he hurriedly looked up at me and said, "Katherine K (name changed to protect the innocent) had a boy. The family is thrilled because it means that there's another male to inherit the estate."
My emotional responses were anything but clear. My first reaction was joy that someone I knew was having a child that they looked forward to raising. My second reaction was one of being perplexed since I wasn't sure who Katherine K was. He quickly explained that Katherine was the daughter-in-law of a good friend of his, Margaret, whom I had met on several occasions. My lack of recognition was due to Katherine not using the same family name as Margaret. You see, Katherine's husband holds an inherited title and, hence, Katherine uses the name that corresponds with that title. On hearing this news, my puzzlement turned into a certain smug laughter of which I'm not proud. I was also aware of feeling a bit angry.
Why smug laughter? The custom amongst a certain set within English culture to change their names when they assume titles has always seemed strange to me. I mean really. The family names of those in discussion are amongst some of the best documented in western history. Isn't one well-established name good enough? This question gives rise to the root of my recessive anger. Patrilineal inheritance seems to me to be an anachronism that shouldn't be tolerated. Of more direct consequence to me, why do some get two direct ties to their history when I don't even get one?
I'm African-American. My surname is Collins. Yet, I don't know if Collins (Irish in origin I believe, possibly Scottish) is the name of a European ancestor long forgotten or if it is, as a more likely explanation, the name of the plantation owner who owned the land on which my forbearers worked as slaves centuries ago. It could also be the name of an admired European whose name was chosen upon my ancestor's emancipation as a nod of approval. However, the chances are slim that Collins is the name that I would have attached to me had my African ancestors passed on their family name without hindrance. I was angry because there are those who change their names and identities with great ease while I have always had to fight to create an identity for myself that's true while being hampered by a name that I love, because it's attached to others that I love, yet hate because it's probably not mine.
Allow me to be clear. I'm happy that Katherine is having a son; her family has always treated me with respect and we've enjoyed one another's company. I'm also aware that the tradition I'm discussing doesn't impact the vast majority of people within England directly. I don't wish to make light of the traditions of others. Really, I don't. But, I have to confess it's sometimes hard to respect traditions and cultures that haven't respected my own, whatever they were. Multi-cultural life is not easy - be it amongst us or within us.
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