Today is the 25th Anniversary of my Name Change. On May 20th, 1999 I became Jennifer Christine Hernandez, and I've never looked back.

So, I'm working on a book about being trans in the 80s and 90s. It'll get published one day, I'm sure. Let me share the name change story from that book with you.

I took a promising job at the beginning of 1999. I would be installing and configuring network cards for cable modems. Tech support - I could do this! I had one day of training before they told me "Um, you can lay cable, can't you?" And suddenly they were wanting to put me in utility baskets 40 feet in the air to check cable rigging.

This wasn't what I's signed up for at all. I also have a fear of heights after a nasty fall when I was younger. so, yeah, not doing that. I walked out the next day, got paid $500 for few days of work, and looked for more jobs.

But wait. $500 is a bit of money. I wonder....

A few calls around, and I found out that a name change in Pennsylvania was only $120.

LET'S DO THIS THING.

The real question was, what name? It's wierd...this was an awesome responsibility. I had the chance to change my name to a female one. This would be the name I would be stuck with for the rest of my life, or until I had another $120. My primary identification.

I knew what I was going to start with: Jennifer. I'd been going by this since high school.
Middle name: Christine. This is going to sound wierd, but while Steph thought I'd look like She Hulk as a woman, I always thought I'd look like Christine McGlade of You Can't Do that on Television.
Last name: ...

Now there was the clinker.

By now, Jenn Dolari had become pretty popular online, and I was already planning on branching out into webcomics (the first "coming soon" for Closetspace was posted in 97). Michael met me as Dolari, and often called me that. It was a part of my identity I'd assumed since I started this whole crazy journey.

But then there was my family's last name. That was the name I was born with, and the name of my family.

What to do, what to do.

A day before I was to put in my request for a name change, my mother called after. We had a good talk, and she said that no matter what, I'd be welcome if I called or came back.

I chose the family name.

With a $120 in hand, and an application for my new name, Jennifer Christine Hernandez, I ran off to the prothonitory's office for my name change. I walked out with the same name I walked in with, but a pile of paperwork, minus $120.

Turns out changing your name is a a slighly complicated ordeal. And this was before 9/11, and I can only imagine it's gotten worse since. I needed to get fingerprinted, I had to have a tax lien scan run, I had to publish a notice of name change in two different newspapers, and gather proofs that all three were taken and passed. I took some cash, and some poking of the Centre Daily Times to get all pushed through, but six weeks after my original application, I was back in the courthouse, ready for my name change.

I walked out with the same name I walked in with, but this time a date in front of the judge just a week later. Small town justice moves "quickly."

I was cool the day before the name change. Cool as a cucumber. Cool like fonzie. I got this. It'll be AWESOME. Woke up the next day in sheer panic. WHAT AM I DOING?! THIS IS FOREVER!! AAUUGGHH!!

I got dressed to the nines in my nicest women's outfit, and I distinctly remember putting a run in my hose from trembling so much. I made the trip to the courthouse, in silence, still trembling.

The county seat sits in a valley surrounded by large rolling mountains. All the roads are super steep, and I had a pickup with a bad emergency brake. I parked next to the courthouse, put the truck in gear, got out, and then had to chase the truck down as the gear popped from the parking angle and proceeded to roll down Main Street. Running in fashionable skimmer shoes? Not fun.

I found a better parking spot, chocked the tires (just in case), and walked right up to the metal detector with my petition. This was it. If I went through, there was no turning back. I was legally changing my name to Jennifer. This was forever. I took a deep breath and walked through the detector without a beep.

I walked into the prothonotory's office with my petition. I walked out with the same name I walked in with. But this time with a room number to go to. I walked through into a giant judicial chamber and took my seat. My hearing was at 10AM, it was 9:50. The judge, from what I could tell since I couldn't hear him over the entirety of my blood rushing through my ears, was negotiating bail for someone in an orange jumpsuit. There was another orange jumpsuited person on the side bench. And me in the back.

If I just remained a small little ball of anxiety back here, maybe no one would see me till I was called. 10:10, and the bailiff escorted me to one of the tables directly before the judges bench.

"This court is now hearing the petition of name change, for..." and then he dropped his glasses and relooked the petition over, then looked at me. "...MaleName Hernandez, to..." and again, looked me over, "Jennifer Christine Hernandez."

I went blanche. I distinctly remember tunnel vision.

"Does the petitioner confirm that the information entered into the record is correct?"

I put on the best female voice I could and said "Yes."

The judges voice boomed loud, "Is there anyone in this court who requests that the petition not be granted?"

No reply.

"The petitioner will approach the bench."

I walked up to the judge, fully expecting him to say "Go away, kid, you're wastin' the courts time." Instead he signed the petition, handed it back to me, "Petition granted." He then gave me the sweetest smile, grin and handshake. Then in the warmest voice I'd heard all morning, "Good luck."

Back into the prothonotory's office, I walked in, got my last signed court orders, and walked out with my new name:

Jennifer Christine Hernandez