June Renew: Day Five
Parli Italiano?
People have been getting my last name wrong all my life. I don’t blame them. It’s long and Italian. But really, it’s easy. It’s phonetic. Ah-nun-zee-ah-toe. Annunziato. It’s not that hard. It means “To announce” in Italian, which is apt since I never seem to know when to shut my dang mouth. And with a name like this that so easily rolls off the tongue, it’s a wonder more people aren’t in tune with such a powerful and proud name.
I’ve seen all sorts of iterations of my last name. Some people put an “a” at the end, which isn’t so far off, as there’s a village in Italy called Annunziata. My seventh grade teacher could never get it right. She’s write it Annunciata mostly. One time I swear she wrote it Nnnunciata. There’s a Mass card for my mom addressed to my dad sitting on my table, which I still have to write a thank you letter for, that simply spells our last name Nunziato. And don’t get me started on how many telemarketers have absolutely butchered it without me even bothering to correct them.
I get that it’s easy to get my name wrong. But it’s my name, and I see very little reason to change up a good thing.
Surname Struggles
When we were little girls, we were told by everyone, teachers, parents, other kids’ parents, that when the time came for us to get married, we’d be taking our husbands’ last names. This never actually sat right with me. I like my last name. How would my musical first name fit with anyone else’s surname, except for an exceedingly Italian man? It always caused me such anxiety to one day have to tell my future husband I wasn’t going to immediately jump at becoming Mrs. So-and-So. If that makes me a feminist then so be it.
My mom never actually legally changed her last name. But she became an Annunziato all the same. It’s why my dad and I wanted both her maiden name and her “married” name on the mausoleum. However she did once tell me she wished she had legally changed it, because it just got too complicated with bills and credit card statements to discern which name was which. So it was always in the back of my mind that taking my beloved’s last name may not be the choice for me, especially when nothing else seems to properly follow “Giovanna Carmela” like my own homegrown name.
Name Your Price
You know what I actually want to do? If it comes to it, I’d absolutely take my man’s last name. But he’s got to take mine too. That’s right, I want a hyphen. I want to be that person. My name goes first. But only on paper. Making it legal. I’m not doing this to emasculate anyone. I just want it so there’ll truly be no one like us. We’re our own brand. Our own name that no one can take from us. And when it comes time to create the next generation, we’ll all be one big happy family. A clan of our own, no coat of arms necessary.
I don’t judge any woman who takes her husband’s last name. That is and always should be someone’s choice. What makes sense for me doesn’t have to make sense to anyone else. I’ve got my plans, my hopes, my dreams. Just like my last name, no one can take those away from me.
Then again, I have every reason to be proud of this last name and the vowel at the end of it. Because I was just offered the opportunity of a lifetime to visit the Italian Motherland if all goes according to plan. Odd little coincidence I thought I’d share.