“Diane,” my friends would say to me this past summer leading up to my wedding, “Please be reasonable. You’re making a BIG mistake.” But to me, there was no mistake. As soon as my wonderful husband, Hamilton, proposed, there was no question in my mind that I would take his last name. I am proud to say that I paved my own path in life, and also my name is “Diane Porky.”
Many of my more progressive friends have a hard time accepting me as Mrs. Porky. “But you’re throwing away your feminist beliefs!” they say. To me, becoming Diane Porky is a feminist statement. I am a strong, educated woman. And to me, marriage isn’t about me. It’s about being in an equal partnership, even though my last name is now Porky.
“But forget feminism, don’t you think ‘Porky’ sounds a little…stupid?” Personally, I don’t think it sounds any stupider than my old name, Diane Vanderbilt. I used to get teased all the time in school: “Hey Vanderbilt, what are you gonna do? Grow up and become a senator or something?” Kids can be very cruel.
Well, I didn’t become a senator. I went to medical school and became an oncologist. “No one’s going to want to get operated on by Dr. Porky,” they say. Hogwash! I’m certain my recent drop in patients is merely the result of this being a particularly slow cancer season. Besides, just because they call me “Dr. Porky” now doesn’t mean I’m any less respectable at removing tumors than I was when I was Dr. Vanderbilt.
I like to say, “I’m the same doctor; except now my last name is Porky.” What’s so wrong about that?
“People are going to laugh at you.” Well, maybe that’s true. Sure, it’s a little embarrassing when a waiting room full of cancer patients laughs whenever I’m being paged. And, yes, whenever I speak at oncology conferences I can hear oinks uttered underneath people’s breath. But being a modern feminist isn’t about names. It’s about being open to love and new identities. And if that means restaurant goers snicker whenever they hear, “Porky, party of two,” and people constantly ask me if my name has any relation to the movie about high school boys trying to lose their virginity, then so be it.
In my naïve youth, there was a time when I vowed I would never stop being a Vanderbilt. But, looking back, I now know I was just being young and foolish. I didn’t understand what a statement of love it could be to take a man’s last name, even if that name was something that evoked images of a chubby cartoon pig. I was just a silly little girl. But now I am a woman, and I am proud to be called Dr. Diane Porky, MD. I know in my heart of hearts that my friends will eventually stop finding it funny and the guys in the hospital cafeteria will stop asking me if I want bacon with that.
