My biological father passed away when I was very young. At the time, my siblings and I were still toddlers, and life changed quickly after that. About a year later, my mother remarried a widowed man who already had children of his own. When they got married, they made a major decision on our behalf: all of us would have our last names legally hyphenated to include both my late father’s surname and my stepfather’s.
That decision was never optional. Some of us were uncomfortable with it from the beginning, but we were told it wasn’t up for discussion. It was presented as something adults knew was “best for the family,” even though it directly affected our identity.
A few years later, my siblings were legally adopted by my stepfather. I was given the choice this time—and I declined. I didn’t hate him, and I wasn’t trying to reject anyone. I simply didn’t want my identity legally changed again. Unfortunately, that choice created long-term tension inside our household.
The hyphenated last name became a constant source of conflict between me, my mother, and my stepfather. In social situations, I often used only my biological father’s last name. On informal documents, I did the same. This deeply upset my stepfather, who felt rejected and disrespected, and my mother viewed it as intentional cruelty.
They both told me repeatedly that I was hurting his feelings and that I should appreciate the man who stepped in and helped raise me. I tried to explain that while I respected him as my mother’s husband, he was not my father—and forcing a name onto me only pushed me further away. That explanation was never accepted.
Over time, the situation got worse. Family dynamics became more strained, especially after some of my stepsiblings distanced themselves from my mother entirely. During that period, my refusal to fully embrace the hyphenated name seemed to anger her even more.
When I turned 18, I legally changed my last name and removed my stepfather’s surname. I had warned them I would do it, but they didn’t believe me until it was finalized. The reaction was intense. My stepfather said it was the most disrespectful thing anyone had ever done to him. My mother said she was ashamed and accused me of being immature and ungrateful.
Despite all of that, I feel at peace. My name now reflects the identity I always felt was mine. I don’t feel guilt, and that seems to bother them the most. From my perspective, this was never about revenge—it was about autonomy, identity, and personal boundaries.
So now I’m left wondering:
Am I wrong for legally changing my name?
And am I wrong for not feeling guilty about it?