I remember the horror we faced clearly when one of the academicians
in the department I was working was going through divorce. As the research
assistants at the time, at the bottom of the hierarchy, we had to manually
update all teaching, academic expectations, and publications documents,
checking the new surname was updated, and if we missed one, we were scolded
with cynical comments.
Years later, in a textbook (I wish I could remember the book to cite
here), a nurse academician was suggesting to always use the maiden name for
publications. I felt strongly supportive of this opinion and promised myself to
do so, if I ever get married. Eventually I did, in Australia, and legally I did
not have to take my partner's family name, so I was happy hopping in the grass
fields.
My happiness lasted till I tried to transfer the marriage papers to Turkey, I was given two options at the Turkish embassy, either just my partner's family name, or both. Of course, I had this 15-character, two surname that would not fit in anywhere in any applications and took ages to sign anything.
Anyway, I have returned to Australia, started publishing here again, enjoying my father’s surname alone and only in publication. Am I back to happy fields of grass, No.
Now I have the
shying concern of my colleagues. They hesitate to ask this very personal
question. They are mostly genuinely concerned about my wellbeing, and sometimes
just curious; ‘Hey, why did you change your surname, is everything ok at home?’
They think I might be going through divorce.
Them being concerned does not annoy me, on the contrary, I am grateful.
This tiny little privileged problem of mine, even though very insignificant
considering the current world events, is bloody annoying because my male
colleagues never even have to think about this. Yet it took so much of my time
and energy in the past.