What’s in a name? For Kate Montana, the answer is entwined with complex questions about history and identity.
“What’s your name?” they ask. “Kate Montana,” I say proudly. The Montana name often evokes questions like, “Are you related to Joe?” or “Are you related to Hannah?” I laugh along, but the connection to my name was frayed before I was even born.
My paternal grandfather, Lawrence Montana, was born Lawrence Montaño. When he joined the United States Air Force, there was supposedly a clerical error that recorded his name in his official documents as Montana. He told me he just never bothered to change it back, but I wonder if Grandpa Larry felt a need to assimilate by assuming the all-American-sounding name of Montana.
I am unsure if I should claim the family name that eluded me. The Montana name has certainly given me privilege. Bearing the name of a U.S. state invites less bias on job applications than the Spanish Montaño. I wonder, though, if Montaño is even our true ancestral name or if it is the result of another colonizer’s attempt to name our family.
Grandpa Larry’s dad, my great-grandpa John, was Indigenous, a member of the Tiwa tribe of Isleta Pueblo, New Mexico. As my ancestors resisted colonization, should I follow in their footsteps by reclaiming the name Montaño that was taken away from me by the American government? Or is it not true resistance since Montaño may really be the name given to my ancestors by colonizing Spaniards? It’s complicated, but, as a mixed person, there is nothing new about that.