I hyphenated my last name after getting married to honor my identity. It only created more problems.

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20 hours ago

At 19, I found out I had been adopted from Colombia, and my name had been changed.
When I married, I chose to hyphenate my last name so as not to lose my identity again.
Not all forms allow you to add a hyphen, leading to inconsistencies across records.
At 19, I had the shocking discovery that not only did I have a different name when I was born, but that I was adopted from Colombia.
When I was adopted, my birth name was immediately changed, and after years of fighting tooth and nail to fit in with my family, I decided that losing my family's name when I married was too much for me.
I couldn't deal with yet another change to my identity, so I hyphenated my last name when I was married — a choice that I ended up regretting.
When I was born, my name was Elisa Contreras Nieves, a name given to me by FANA, a foundation for the adoption of abandoned children in Bogotá, Colombia. While it is weird to think that strangers named me and not my mother, it was nevertheless my name — one of the few ties to my birth mom and country.
Like many adoptees, my parents decided to change my name to something they preferred. Luckily, my mom liked my first name and only slightly changed Elisa. I did, however, lose my Latino last name to Guida, my father's very Italian name, which eventually led to years of racial ambiguity, where people were constantly asking, "What are you?"
While I proudly wore it, the world questioned my ownership of a name that didn't quite match the face of what people expected to see. From cultural events at school, to repping his country in a vibrant green, white, and red Italian soccer jersey during the world cup, to winning awards in the Italian Honor Society with "Guida" proudly across the certificates, my identity was fully tied up in a name that didn't quite fit me.
Growing up in an immigrant American family, I was taught the importance of family and culture. The struggles our family had before immigrating and achieving the ideal American dream came with prejudice that my father never let me forget. My father's heavy accent and name immediately signaled him out in school, where teachers called him the slur "guinea," which is one reason he pushed me so hard to represent not only his name, but his Italian culture.
Being the first in my immediate family to graduate from high school and college meant my name — our name — was featured proudly in the program they handed out at graduation. My father had framed one in a beautiful plaque that hangs proudly in my home office, so when it came time to get married, I knew what I had to do.
Changing my name almost seemed too simple. I filled out my marriage certificate and carefully wrote Guida-Richards, a tie to my old and new life.
Now, I knew each change in documents and credit cards could add up to quite a few, but I didn't expect everyday activities to become a lot more difficult due to the simple addition of a little hyphen and my husband's last name.
When I would go to the pharmacy to pick up medication, suddenly, there were difficulties in finding me in the system. Due to the hyphenated name, locating me in the system was now a challenge. And when you must pick up multiple medications throughout the month to manage your chronic illnesses, each of these interactions starts to add up.
Over the next few years, I questioned my decision every single time an issue arose. While it is completely legal to add a hyphen to your name, it does not mean that it is an available choice when filling out an array of forms or inputting your information in computer systems at the doctor, pharmacist, or even DMV. This led to inconsistency across records and difficulty in my professional life.
When I got married, I worried that embracing my husband's name would somehow erase my family ties. Completely changing was something I just couldn't get on board with until I spent years unpacking my identity in therapy.
Now that I have, I have realized it's OK not to like it anymore. People change, we adapt, we grow, and sometimes our names need to change, which is why I will save up to do just that.
Melissa Guida-Richards is a transracial adoptee, author, and advocate. She is the author of "What White Parents Should Know About Transracial Adoption." You can find her @adoptee_thoughts or AdopteeThoughts.com.
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