Now we come to the topic that male journalists never have to face:
A name change.
I was married in 2001, and at the time, changing my name and my byline was a no-brainer. I'm a traditional girl at heart, and I actually enjoyed explaining to people why my name was different. After all, a wedding is a happy affair.
Fast forward to this year, when my divorce was finalized after a 2-year separation ... and I had a tough choice to make.
For a lot of women, the question of returning to a maiden name usually involves the emotions and well-being of their children from a marriage ... and beyond that, you have the hassle of changing the name on everything from the water bill, to voting records, to the Social Security card.
For a woman journalist, whose byline advertises her "body of work," especially now on the Internet, that name change comes with a much larger price.
I ran the whole thing by a few friends in the business, and one person who represents celebrities in LA as a publicist warded me off of changing anything. "You'll have to explain yourself to people," he said. "It's information they don't need to know."
I chewed on my lip for a few weeks after that, considering it.
In the end, I decided that my name represented more than what was on a mailing label -- or even what was printed over articles I'd written.
It went to the core of who I was before I was married ... and that I have returned to that same "person" today. When all was said and done, I wanted people to know me or remember me by the last name with which I was born, not the one that tied me to a memory of a failed marriage.
Changing a name is a very individualized decision. For sure, this one created a lot of confusion! But in the end, I'm really glad I went this route. I tell people, "My friends call me, 'Heidi,' but my closest friends -- those who know the details of my life -- call me, 'Russell.'" Since I was a teenager, "Russell" was more than a last name. It was a warm nickname. In it is tied up the feisty, mischievous and devil-may-care person who first decided she wanted to break balls in a newsroom. I still get a charge every time one of my confidants calls me on the phone and says, "Hey, Russell, what trouble are you causing today?" I still love to hear from someone who will say gleefully, "I'm so glad you went back to your old name!"
Yes, it may confuse people when they search, "Heidi Lynn Russell" and only find a handful of articles on Google. It may have been better for my own credibility to keep the moniker, "Heidi Russell Rafferty" as my official byline, because if you search that name, you'll find far more than you want to see.
That's okay.
Because Heidi Lynn Russell really isn't the same person that Heidi Russell Rafferty was.
And with that small change, even though I may not get the recognition for the volume of work that exists under the married name, I'm back to the person I was before, except stronger, better ... and wiser.
A name change.
I was married in 2001, and at the time, changing my name and my byline was a no-brainer. I'm a traditional girl at heart, and I actually enjoyed explaining to people why my name was different. After all, a wedding is a happy affair.
Fast forward to this year, when my divorce was finalized after a 2-year separation ... and I had a tough choice to make.
For a lot of women, the question of returning to a maiden name usually involves the emotions and well-being of their children from a marriage ... and beyond that, you have the hassle of changing the name on everything from the water bill, to voting records, to the Social Security card.
For a woman journalist, whose byline advertises her "body of work," especially now on the Internet, that name change comes with a much larger price.
I ran the whole thing by a few friends in the business, and one person who represents celebrities in LA as a publicist warded me off of changing anything. "You'll have to explain yourself to people," he said. "It's information they don't need to know."
I chewed on my lip for a few weeks after that, considering it.
In the end, I decided that my name represented more than what was on a mailing label -- or even what was printed over articles I'd written.
It went to the core of who I was before I was married ... and that I have returned to that same "person" today. When all was said and done, I wanted people to know me or remember me by the last name with which I was born, not the one that tied me to a memory of a failed marriage.
Changing a name is a very individualized decision. For sure, this one created a lot of confusion! But in the end, I'm really glad I went this route. I tell people, "My friends call me, 'Heidi,' but my closest friends -- those who know the details of my life -- call me, 'Russell.'" Since I was a teenager, "Russell" was more than a last name. It was a warm nickname. In it is tied up the feisty, mischievous and devil-may-care person who first decided she wanted to break balls in a newsroom. I still get a charge every time one of my confidants calls me on the phone and says, "Hey, Russell, what trouble are you causing today?" I still love to hear from someone who will say gleefully, "I'm so glad you went back to your old name!"
Yes, it may confuse people when they search, "Heidi Lynn Russell" and only find a handful of articles on Google. It may have been better for my own credibility to keep the moniker, "Heidi Russell Rafferty" as my official byline, because if you search that name, you'll find far more than you want to see.
That's okay.
Because Heidi Lynn Russell really isn't the same person that Heidi Russell Rafferty was.
And with that small change, even though I may not get the recognition for the volume of work that exists under the married name, I'm back to the person I was before, except stronger, better ... and wiser.
