I’m just Emily to my friends. I go by “Emily St” in writing whenever someone needs a longer name and there’s no strict, legal reason to give my whole last name. It catches some people up because “St” resembles the abbreviation for a bunch of things which have nothing to do with me.
In this case, “St” is only short for my last name—not “Saint,” not “Street,” not some other thing. I rarely give out the full version because I’ve found it’s unnecessary in almost every situation.
It’s surprising how often the full last name isn’t actually required. For years, I’ve managed to have mail delivered without my full last name—useful so I can know mail from people who actually know me from those who have me from some list. I’ve even had credit card transactions go through okay without the whole last name.
The idea that I might not be going by my “real” or “legal” name might cause someone consternation. But a “real name” is a slippery idea. It comes from a combination of assumptions about a person having a single, fixed name which is registered with a single, fixed governmental entity. This assumption is both relatively recent in history and only true in the simplest cases.
Not only may a legal name for a person vary over time, but even in a single moment, disagreement may exist among various legal entities about a legal name. For example, in the U.S., the moment a judge issues a court order granting a name change, you (and not some automatic process) must then take that name change order to all the various entities, public and private (Social Security Administration, DMV, bank, job, and so on) and get them all updated. Until you’re done, those entities disagree about your name. You can hold in your hand a driver’s license in one name, a Social Security card in another, and be totally in the right simply because of bureaucracy. They’re not even the same governments—one’s federal and one’s state. They have little meaningful responsibility to be in accord with one another (and any bills attempting to create a unified federal ID system have been resisted so far in the U.S.).
Then setting aside legal technicalities, a “real” name is just an idea that can coincide with a legal name or not, may be a single name or multiple. Used enough, a name may become someone’s legal name through sheer use—a name change by usage can be recognized legally as well.
There are people who convert their names through religion, use different names to assimilate culturally, or adopt assumed names for performance or pseudonymous reasons. Do you know Mozart’s “real name”? There’s an entire Wikipedia article about it. Would you be surprised to hear Beethoven introduce himself as Luigi or Louis, depending on if you were in Italy or France at the time?
The process of name change continues today. SAG-AFTRA rules discourage name collisions, so performers often choose new names under which they perform. Names also may have marketing or homage purposes. Diane Keaton loved Buster Keaton. You know Tom Cruise and not Thomas Mapother. Harry Houdini’s greatest escape might have been from the name Erik Weisz.
Seen through the prism of those contexts, what’s a “real” name?
As for why I use “St” and not some other abbreviation, I have a couple of reasons. First, “S” on its own would be even more confusing, I think. It’s less unique and might look like (in handwriting especially) like I’m just pluralizing my first name.
I also liked the way it looked when I signed it. I could cross the final flourish with a downstroke.
It began at my first tech job, where everyone was assigned usernames with three-letter acronyms, and for some reason, I was given “
est.” I took to expanding that out—I can’t remember where exactly first—so my first name would be included.
It was pretty unique—easy to find as a username in places. It had no strong flavor of personality beyond being my name, so I probably wouldn’t tire of it. It was short. I managed to find a Web domain version of it online.
It sometimes confuses people that I shorten it this way—it’s not an initial, but it has no vowels, so it’s not a word. So sometimes I slap a big asterisk on the end—Emily St＊—so it looks like something is omitted. (Putting a dot just made people say “Saint” or “Street,” as if part of the name got lopped off.)
That’s all there is to it—it’s just my first name and part of my last name. Nothing more. If you meet me, you can call me by my first name. If you really need to, you can sound out the letters “ess tee,” or just ask me my last name in person. (I don’t mind people knowing. I just don’t commit it to writing without a good reason.)