Over the weekend, a clip of Ethan Payne – of British YouTube group 'Sidemen' fame – and partner Faith Kelly popped up on my Twitter or “X” feed. It was from their podcast Growing Paynes and showed them debating why Ethan refuses to propose to her. The sticking point, it seemed, was that Faith wanted to retain her name if they married, making it a double-barrelled combination of both.
As they sit on leather chairs talking, a chalkboard hangs on the wall behind them titled “Ethan’s Behaviour Chart”, citing comments next to the days of the week, such as “sexist comments” or “bad boyfriend”. I try to ignore this preschool behaviour chart created for a grown man and listen to their discussion.
“I want to be [Faith] Kelly-Payne,” she says. Ethan then farts, clearly giving this discussion the weight it deserves, and says, “Faith doesn’t want to take my name and that irks me” to the audience. “No, I just want to take mine as well”, she corrects before trying to de-escalate. Ethan is steadfast. “That’s the conditions… I just believe that’s how it should be done”. Finally, he intimates this decision to be evidence that Faith doesn’t want to commit; “You’re bottling it”, he says.
At the time of writing, this video has 804 comments underneath it. “Ethan, if she can’t take your last name, she really ain’t your wife”, typed one man with a blue check and 30 followers. “I just wanna know why this discussion is on a fucking podcast”, says another, making a fair point. The last comment I see reads, “Neither of them are wrong it’s just down to personal preference at the end of the day”. And I pause. But is it, though? Our choices and views don’t exist outside of the society that made us. I decided against leaving a comment of my own.
Gina Martin breaks it down.
When my partner and I agreed to marry, he already knew whether I would be taking his name or not. I didn’t have to say anything because he knew me well enough to know: communication came before a legal commitment.
I was never going to trade my name for his because it didn’t make sense for me to do so; I am not him; he is not me. I am not his; he is not mine. Even so, I decided to finalise the conversation anyway. “We should chat about names”, I posited over the breakfast bar one evening during a chat about wedding admin. “We’d be keeping our names, right?” he replied. “Would you want to give up your last name to take mine?” I asked, “Hmmm, not really”. “Neither would I… easy”. We both laughed at how easy the decision was – anything other than keeping our own names would feel bonkers.
“Women are still expected to take their husband’s name and forfeit part of their identity for their relationship.”
In this conversation, Jordy [my partner] was operating from a very different place than me: one free from societal expectations. Whatever he chose would be respected, even if that choice had been to take my name and remove his own. Sure, some people may not have understood it, but their default would have been to assume his surname first – to centre him – then seek to understand later: a normal reaction to change. And even the most transgressive option he had – taking my name – wouldn’t have fed into a societal system that negatively impacted his life. In fact, he probably would have been viewed as an evolved, progressive guy.
On the contrary, I wasn’t free from societal expectations; I knew that whatever my decision, I’d still receive mail addressed to “Mr. and Mrs.” followed by his last name and that people would default to calling me by his last name post-wedding despite a lifetime of only calling me by mine. I knew that my family name would be relegated as secondary to his. I even asked close family and friends not to make jokes calling me by his name because I was going to have to deal with that throughout our life together (I’ve already been questioned at the bank about my second name) and didn’t want to be put in the position of feeling uncomfortable and having to educate people. I was sometimes perceived as being over-sensitive, but that’s just another day in the life of being a woman with feelings people choose not to understand.
“It’s obvious who wears the trousers.”
You see, it’s still transgressive to keep your own name as a woman marrying a man because taking his is the default cultural norm. For British women, almost 90% take their husband’s name, according to a 2016 survey, with the majority only dropping to 85% of those aged between 18 and 30.
This is surprising when you consider that 60% of young British women aged between 18 and 24 identify as feminists. Culturally, we have failed to conceive of a reality beyond patrilineal surnames – despite many other countries having different models – and it’s not just down to the conversations that couples have (or don’t have) but to the culture that restrictive, patriarchal 18th-century laws called coverture laws – which counted wives as legal property of their husbands, shaped.
“Women are people, not just a gender; their names are part of their identity.”
Prior to the 18th century, surnames weren’t standardised, with some taking their mothers or grandmothers’, and most surnames were named after a profession (such as Smith) or a location.
Coverture laws evolved to forbid women from owning land at all, and taking a husband’s name signified acquiescing to his authority – defaulting to him, which women did because often they had no bloody choice. Now, there are no laws that mandate this, women are not forbidden from making their own money, opening bank accounts, or owning houses, but women are still expected to take their husband’s name and forfeit part of their identity for their relationship, especially when it comes to relationships in religious families or conservatively political ones.
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Traditional gendered roles and expectations are deeply entrenched in both us as individuals, our family structures, our relationships and the institutions and systems we live within. Similar to how society romanticises motherhood as a shiny destination of womanhood, only to take their service for granted and refuse to create any meaningful structural support systems for them, we also view wifeliness as a gold medal of womanhood but refuse to recognise how unequal and patriarchal it can be.
And then we use choice feminism (the misrepresentation of feminism that says a choice is feminist just by dint of it being made by a woman, regardless of outcome) to bat away any uncomfortable discussions about the institution of marriage and its archaic, arbitrary expectations: “It’s my choice and that is feminism!” We want to assume these milestones are entirely our choice, but choice can only exist with autonomy, and can you really be autonomous when you’re deeply aware that your culture expects a specific outcome from you? Even more so when there are negative consequences from your church, family, immediate circle or workplace if you choose differently.
"If he really can’t accept that you don’t want to remove your last name – and will only allow a choice that benefits him – should he really be your husband?”
While straight cis women navigate a not very fun constellation of expectations about womanhood and wifeliness that have everything to do with their positionality to men and nothing to do with what they want and need, men navigate what women’s decisions mean about their masculinity or power and use that power to control them. But women are not props for men’s egos. Neither are wives. Women are people, not just a gender; their names are part of their identity, and arbitrary rules like the expectation to take a man’s name are benefiting men much more than women. I mean, jesus, recent data even shows married mothers have worse health and wellness outcomes because marriage is often an unequal agreement in a patriarchal society and tends to benefit husbands and fathers. This is all why it really does feel like any decision women can make that allows them to retain their sense of self in a society that is intent on removing it, can only be a healthy thing.
You see, when I watched that video and saw Ethan Payne saying he won’t marry his girlfriend –who stated she never asked for the offer in the first place – because she won’t remove her surname and only take his, I felt much less “Ethan if she can’t take your last name she really ain’t your wife” as @inferusBEAST said, and much more “Faith, if he really can’t accept that you don’t want to remove your last name, and will only allow a choice that benefits him, should he really be your husband?”
We need to rewrite the script.
