On the outside, the SCA — where you purposely choose a name that isn’t on your birth certificate* — seems like a place where you can start over if you make a mess. You can pick a new name if you don’t like what you had. You can design new arms to go with it. “Change your name, change your fate”, right?
Not so much.
We have something called an Order of Precedence, for a start. It shows everything you’ve done, under every name you’ve had, everywhere you’ve been. My entry is pretty short: Elen Woderose, Award of Arms, 06/21/2014. The entry after me belongs to Countess Elena d’Artois le Tailleur, which I personally find hilarious in terms of contrast, and no, I’m not jealous. She earned every single one of those accolades.
But in parentheses you’ll see, italicized, that she was once Elena du Tailleur, no d’Artois about it. And that’s far from the most radical change you’ll find. Elianora Mathewes, a few entries down, has also been Willyam Caverly. Even very well-known heralds decide they’re keen on a change; the best example, and a much better explanation of this phenomenon, is the Tale of Tangwystyl.
My birth name is something of an open secret**, but my SCA name will follow me all the rest of my days. I can’t hide from it. So I’d like not to have to hide from it. That means that, as long as I insist on being Elen Woderose on social media, I’m going to have to live up to the honor. “The past is written; it cannot be changed . . . one must learn to live with that past as best one can. As to the future, a commitment to the truth will compel many of your choices, reducing the likelihood of trouble when you look into the glass, or when others look upon you.” (Look here for the whole.)
I don’t want to bring shame on anyone who’s associated with me, either. We have all been young and many of us have been both young and silly at the same time. There’s only so much a person can write off as “young and silly”. Fashion choices, yes. An incendiary past, perhaps, so long as the firebombs in question are made of words and nobody was maimed or killed. Habits and language change.***
It’s hard to figure out what to do with a social media presence. Then again, if I’m cringing at the thought of someone seeing something, should I even be posting it? And where do I draw the line between Elen and Marelie? Between Woderose and Garnet, even? You see how hat-swapping gets complex!
So for now I’ll be watching how the professionals do it — kings and queens (past and present), knights, Laurels, Pelicans, and one very shiny new Mistress of Defence. How do their choices serve them? How much of each aspect of their lives do they choose to bring to the table? How do they decide?
More reading and musing to come, when I’m not… oh, dear, four hours past my bedtime. Speaking of habits to change.
* We do not register full legal names. (Administrative Handbook III.A.10)
** I only gave Alheydis my initials and my surname, and that because the postman’s got to actually deliver those heraldic submissions. Incidentally, I would love to have a real mailbox again, this one proof against cars. Perhaps wood encased in concrete? Special place for outgoing mail at the top, a spout for incoming that feeds a lockable belly-box. Mmm.
*** Ever had to explain to a potential date that you were meh on selfies? Yeah, I’m not surprised he dropped me like a hot potato, either. These days, if you don’t have a million pictures of yourself, you must be hideous. (No, I just… haven’t changed much.)
Refuge in Audacity 