History has the knack of forgetting women. One way is to not name them at all. More recently, I noticed another…
I had just completed writing my book (no, not the one in the picture!) and I had to cross-check all the references. I had cited a good number of academic sources. But I hadn’t used a consistent referencing style. So, in December 2024, I sat down to correct them all.
I chose the Chicago Style because I had bought an expensive hardcopy of the book and wanted to get my money’s worth. And I’m glad I chose that style, because it requires that we mention the first names of the authors we quote.
Reference after reference, I realized that many of the surnames I mentioned hid the identities of the authors they belonged to. The Chicago Style of referencing forced me to notice that Norbury is Agnes Norbury, Benyon is Sarah L Benyon, Boecker is Lea Boecker, and Sinha is Parul Sinha.
It’s not that I dislike surnames. And I’m not suggesting that we drop them. Living in a collectivistic culture, I know how important surnames are. They tell us that the individuals who bear those names have people to call kin.
I’m also aware that women couldn’t always use their first names and be taken seriously. Using their surnames allowed them to have some sort of a platform to speak from.
But I learnt embarrassingly late that LM Montgomery was Lucy Maud Montgomery. And I am embarrassed that I must fight the urge to call every scholar “he.”
Isn’t it time to change the convention?
It’s time to celebrate women authors and researchers. It’s time to learn first names as well—even the difficult, ethnic ones.
Don’t let using surnames alone be another way to forget women’s contribution to science and culture.
