I STILL BEAR THE NAME OF MY ABSENT STEPFATHER

By Stacey Duguid

My NAME has been bothering me greatly ever since I can remember. My surname feels alien. Temporary, not mine. That’s probably because it isn’t. I was three years old when Mum left my genetic father, the man whose surname features on my birth certificate.

And it was three years later when I took the name of my stepfather, the man who eventually became ‘Dad’.

Single, living back in her parents’ bungalow and sharing a bed with her three-year-old, Mum took a job working on a till in a supermarket. At work, she met a very Scottish Mr Duguid, manager of the store.

They married and, aged six when my brother came along, our family became three Duguids plus me.

I felt out of place, not that I knew it, until the receptionist of a hotel with a checklist of names delivered an innocent enough remark. ‘And, we have, erm, this can’t be right, one extra person, not Duguid?’

My name was changed that day and, 41 years later, despite my mother splitting from my stepfather when I was 21, his surname appears on every document of my life.

Until he remarried, he was my everything. But it means I haven’t seen the dad I loved dearly for over 20 years. It hurts so much I haven’t been able to face it. Until the day I had to.

I never set out to marry. I wanted children, a future with someone. But marriage? That was never part of the plan. But then, suddenly, it was, and in 2018 I married the father of my two children. It’s what happened 20 minutes before I made my way down the aisle that’s most interesting to me. An argument with the Marylebone registrar over who should be named on my marriage certificate became so heated that I believed the whole wedding would be called off.

‘A mother’s name cannot go on a marriage certificate,’ they told me. ‘ It can only be a father or stepfather. Whose name would you like to add?’ ‘Neither’ I heard myself say, my vision blurred, my head spinning.

‘My mother raised me. It’s this woman’s name I want on the certificate, not theirs,’ I said, angrily.

‘This is the patriarchy and I’m having none of it,’ were the last words I remember saying as tears flowed down my cheeks from sheer frustration. I knew I’d never take a man’s surname again.

‘Officially divorced as of this year, even if we’d stayed together for ever, I never would have taken my husband’s surname. A third name to add to the other two? Pointless.

For many, surnames provide a sense of belonging, but not for me. I’m so peeved, I’m considering being Stacey Stardust. It’s almost as snappy as Victoria Valentine.