A really, really long name change journey

My favorite photo of us from early in our relationship.

My favorite photo of us from early in our relationship.

Three years ago (!), Zach proposed, and I was so, so happy. We started discussing Big Things almost immediately: Would we have kids, what would we teach them about religion, and who has to do the dishes?

Somewhere between a discussion of the virtues of poodles and Jack Russels, we discussed the name change.

Zach said he didn’t care, which I immensely appreciate. I believe (as a feminist, duh), that it should ultimately be something that a woman decides for herself, but if a man wants to have an opinion, that’s fine too. At the end of the day, though, it’s not his name, and not his choice. He’s awesome, so he agrees with me.

With the stress of the wedding weighing on me, along with a million other things, I just didn’t reserve enough mental space for making a decision. Suddenly, the wedding happened, and we were officially married.

The decision to change my name (or not!) was not quite so sudden. Some weekends I decide I’m going to do it, and I start gathering paperwork. Other weekends, I decided I’m not going to. Other days, still, I decided I was going to go the Beyonce route and just go by my first name.

After a little soul searching, I’ve finally, finally decided that I’m not going to officially change my name. It’s the name I first saw in print, and the name I’ve used my whole life. It’s just not the right decision for me to change that now.

If you want to call me Whitney Gibbs, I’m totally cool with that, though. I really couldn’t care less. I still LOVE “Gibbsi” as a couple name. It’s amazing, don’t ever change it. But, officially, Whitney Lee’s going to be it for me.

Much love to everyone!


Facebook privacy settings aren’t that difficult, I promise


Maybe it’s because I’m a Millenial and I was raised on tech and over-sharing. Maybe it’s because my life is relatively dull—no illegal substances, no scandals, minimal drama. But I really can’t wrap my head around why people freak out over Facebook sharing settings.

There has to be some sort of expectation at this point that Facebook is going to sell pretty much whatever information it has about you. And really–does it even matter that Best Buy knows that you like action movies? They’re not going to raid your home with a display case of movies they’ll force you to buy. They’re just going to show you more relevant ads.

More often than not, it seems like people are just getting squicked out about their “rights” (please imagine dramatic finger quotes) to privacy instead of the actual micro-shares that are taking place. Let’s be clear: You definitely have a right to privacy. But if you put something on a social network, you’re giving up a piece of that right.

If you find yourself still questioning Facebook privacy, it’s a good thing you’re here. I have a definitive guide to understanding privacy options on Facebook:

*Don’t post it if you don’t want it seen. It doesn’t matter what your privacy settings are. If you don’t want it seen,  leave it entirely off of Facebook. This advice is repeated more often than “Don’t shoot your eye out” around Christmas (and is starting to sound just as corny), but people still don’t seem to understand. Don’t want your boss to see you bitching about that customer? Tell your friends in private. It’ll make a better story than a post anyway.

*Understand the nature of the beast. Facebook is a business, and its currency is data. When you give them something (birthday, email address, information on what products you like), they’re going to use it somehow. They’re not making their money by ad sales as much as they’re making money by knowing you. If this makes you uncomfortable, that’s okay. Stop feeding the machine.

*Craft a public image. Since we’re assuming that everything is going to be seen by everyone, go ahead and think of yourself as your own PR expert. Unpleasant things like your political opinion, that fight you had with your husband and your child’s poop don’t belong on Facebook. If you really want to create a space where you can talk about that, consider a more private application.

Hopefully that’s helpful if you’re privacy paranoid. Thoughts? Opinions?

In defense of embracing labels


Confession time: I haven’t always called myself a nerd. In high school, I would’ve called myself “studious,” and then gone back to outlining my essay comparing the treatment of women by Tolkien, Hemingway and Scott. After that, I went home to play Need For Speed on the PS2. But you know, I wasn’t a nerd or anything.

Once I got to college, I got even more into video games, and even more into traditional nerdy stuff. I still tried to be conventionally cool, but I also tried learning Elvish. Weekend consisted of epic Risk games just as often as they did of parties and shopping. I didn’t constrict myself to “being” anything.

Then, I met a lovely nerd who loves me. And, my life got even nerdier. The first time I played Dungeons and Dragons is almost as fond a memory as setting up my first dorm room. I branched out from Risk and started playing Dominion and Carcassone. The Spiel des Jahres seal (which represents the German Game of the Year) started meaning something to me.

And that, dear homies, is when I started calling myself a nerd.

It was enlightening. I allowed myself some nerdy t-shirts (but only when I felt “worthy” of a fandom), and started skipping a couple classes every month to get some more video game time in with my best friend.

Today, I’m rocking a black sweater and Batman earrings. I’m going home and reading comics in my Superman pajamas. Thursdays are  Minecraft days during lunch at work. Let’s not even talk about how many video games I manage to squeeze into a week.

The main difference when you’re not afraid to label yourself is that it’s easier to find something in common with people. Sure, they might not actually be nerds, but they may have a tabletop game obsession, or go home to play an MMO. It’s a conversation easy button, which is great when you’re not particularly conversationally adept like me. I’m grateful to everyone who takes the time to talk about their own hobbies with me. Labels also give you room to grow inside a community. Maybe you’re into hobby trains or tea, or makeup. If you embrace a community, you instantly get to experience your hobbies in a new light.

Obviously, we’re all more complex than our labels. But sometimes labels-as-shorthand can be incredibly helpful! Thoughts?