I have been asked about the name I am using between my first name and my last name.

I WAS TOLD THAT IT SOUNDS HILARIOUS. Like a man-woman name. Well, it is not. I do not claim the name Christos Rodoulla. Yes, that would be really funny. My name is Christos.

To support me view and defend myself, since I found my self among gunshots, I state:

First, linguistically, two names in a row with a space between them can easily be seperated and distinguished as being a first and a middle name. Come on guys, names in Spain are wagons of long trains. Picasso’s name for example includes (in a row of at least twenty names) all names of his family, mother’s, father’s, aunts’, grandmothers’, uncles’, grandfathers’. And it is not funny at all. I call it “respect”.

Well. Rodoulla is my mother’s name and I am all fire in doing this. I don’t mind becoming the first Cypriot who suffers contempt for using his mother’s middle name. But I shall not be a martyr. I want more people to support me. By Doing the same.  To me it is an act of protest against the ever so stone-hard patriarchic attitude of using only our Father-Descended Family Name. And in doing that we of course totally ignore our mother as an individual. We ignore her by leaving her name out of our own nominal name and by inexcusably establishing her inequality to and suppression by the dominant male figure – the husband.

Though I sound more like a feminist than a man with full pants, I can assure you that my jewels are shiny and ready to go, thanks to my creator, my mother. And I intend to honour her with my name on my book. I am ready to tolerate any attack of phallocrats against my action and at the same time I invite all of you who are in favour of Cyprus or other world citizens to be officially allowed and socially accepted to use their mother’s name as their middle name!

I invite you to cast a vote in my group called “Mother’s Middle Name”   http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/profile.php?v=feed&story_fbid=333988259160&id=100000838412216

If we respect out fathers only, we burry half our identity. Do we want that, indeed, after all?

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