Changing your name should be a joyous moment, but for many it’s a nightmare

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/may/19/changing-your-name-nightmare-trans

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Changing your name is widely – but wrongly – seen as an issue of particular concern to the transgender community. It is with tiresome regularity that we hear in the news about another trans man or woman humiliated over something as basic as their chosen name. This impression gained further traction last week with NatWest telling one trans customer that she “must” provide a gender recognition certificate (GRC) if she wished to be known as “Ms”, or they would insist on titling her “Mr” or “Mx”. As always, the issue was eased gently back into its box courtesy of soft words from the “head of inclusion”: it was a mistake, a local misunderstanding, unintended.

This kind of action could even be unlawful. As well as being a source of humiliation and annoyance to hundreds of thousands of people each year, name change fosters the very identity insecurity that it is often intended to combat.

According to the law, you may call yourself whatever you wish: it is not for any organisation to dictate what name or title you may use, unless they suspect you are doing so for fraudulent purposes. However, panicked over money-laundering and terror, the UK government has threatened sanctions against banks and financial institutions, who take refuge in making demands for pointless documentation. The idea of a deed poll being “proof of name change” would be laughable, did it not reveal just how little banks care for protecting our identity. As a security device, deed poll proof is less than worthless.

Once you’ve changed your name, accessing the old one can be traumatic: not for nothing is it referred to as 'deadname'

Trans people tend to change their name once in their lifetime. Non-binary people, too. And obtaining validation of their decision in terms of printed documentation is a big moment, a joyous moment. Even if it is only printed on your library pass.

I was Jane Fae long before I engaged with the psyched-up, medicalised, gender identity process. It took a while to discover Francesca, my saint-inspired middle name, though when I did it felt like gaining a long-lost sister. Once you’ve changed your name, accessing the old one can be traumatic: not for nothing is it referred to as “deadname”.

Last year, the cabinet came up with a new system for registering to vote, requiring disclosure of previous name. They were shocked to learn, in the course of meetings with myself and Helen Belcher, secretary of the Parliamentary Forum on Gender Identity, that a significant portion of the trans community would prefer to disenfranchise itself – to not vote at all – than disclose their previous name. Thankfully, following further consultation, a new approach is taking shape.

Meanwhile, for non-trans women who undertake the vast majority of name changes, the issue can be equally traumatic. In addition to the 300,000-400,000 annual name changes brought on by marriage or divorce, there is a small but persistent number who change for other reasons: a constant drift between titles, from Miss to Ms or Mrs. In these instances, some organisations insist that title change is name change, and therefore requires documentation.

Much darker is the fact that some people change name for reasons of domestic or childhood abuse. I have interviewed several individuals who have fallen into this category and been disgusted by the insensitivity meted out to them.

Yet even when name change is “just” for reasons of marriage or divorce, there can be cost and hassle, as different organisations demand different standards of “proof”. For instance, many banks now reject marriage or divorce certificates if they are more than six months past.

Related: Transgender celebrities are not new. Just read London newspapers from 1770 | Gary Kates

The current processes disproportionately drain the time and money of two groups: trans people and women. That, as any equality lawyer will tell you, is prima facie a definition of indirect discrimination.

Such processes may be justifiable if they were “necessary” to achieving a specific objective, and there was no reasonable alternative means to achieve it. But rather than increasing “security”, the administrative fuss around name change often results in new accounts being set up, thereby creating the very identity issue we were trying to avoid.

Furthermore, many in the trans community reject the request for a GRC out of hand as the ultimate impertinence. The certificate not only delegates your gender to government, it’s also likely to lead to discrimination, as access to certain services is contingent on showing a GRC. For the growing number of GRC refuseniks (the majority of those entitled to one), it is a pointless demand.

Name change processes are a constant source of friction. They slow down your ability to live your life and, when the jobsworths get it wrong, are a source of significant upset. Organisations need to find more respectful ways to deal with individuals. Or, like my bank, they’ll find themselves on the end of not just public embarrassment, but court action for unlawful discrimination.