‘Becoming Mr’: South Africa’s Surname Ruling Sparks Debate in Eswatini
By Delisa Magagula
When South Africa’s Constitutional Court ruled last week that men can now legally adopt their wives’ surnames, the decision was hailed as a landmark for gender equality.
But across the border in Eswatini, it has also stirred heated conversations about identity, tradition, and the meaning of a family name.
The judgment, delivered in Johannesburg, struck down sections of the Births and Deaths Registration Act that had restricted surname changes to women.
The case was brought by a Durban man who argued that the law discriminated against men, denying them the same rights that women had long exercised.
The court agreed, declaring the provisions unconstitutional and affirming that equality before the law applies to both genders. Rights groups celebrated the ruling as a step toward dismantling patriarchal traditions embedded in legislation.
But on the streets and online, the response was more complicated.
Almost immediately, social media lit up with memes and jokes. Videos imagined men introducing themselves with their wives’ surnames, while others poked fun at the idea of “giving up” a family name.

What was, at its core, a serious ruling about equality quickly became a cultural flashpoint.
For some, the humour masked discomfort with a judgment that upends long-held ideas about masculinity, lineage, and identity. For others, it was a welcome challenge to patriarchal norms.
In Eswatini, the decision has landed in a society where names are deeply tied to heritage and clan.
“In our culture, a surname is not just paperwork. It connects you to your ancestors,” said Bheki Simelane, an elder in Mbabane. “For a man to give up his surname is to give up himself. That is not something we can accept.”
But younger voices were more open. Sipho Dlamini, a 34-year-old accountant in Manzini, shrugged at the idea. “If a man loves his wife enough to carry her name, I see no problem. At the end of the day, it’s just a name. What matters is how you live.”
Women’s reactions were mixed. Some welcomed the South African ruling as long-overdue recognition of equality. “For centuries, women have been expected to abandon their identity the moment they marry,” said Nondumiso Khumalo, a nurse in Ezulwini.
“Now men can also make that choice. That is fairness.”
Others viewed it through the lens of custom. “Marriage here is not just between two people but two families,” said Gugu Mamba, a shop owner in Mbabane. “That is why a woman takes her husband’s surname.
For a man to do the same makes no sense in our way of life.”
Under Eswatini’s current laws, women may retain their maiden names, take their husband’s, or use both. For men, the law is silent. Applications for name changes fall under the Births, Marriages and Deaths Registration Act, with final approval resting with the Ministry of Home Affairs.
Attorney Thuli Mavuso noted that nothing explicitly prevents a man from taking his wife’s surname, but such an application would likely raise eyebrows. “There is no written ban, but because it goes against custom and practice, officials may hesitate to register it,” she said.
Constitutional scholar Mcebo Magagula argued that the South African reasoning could resonate locally if tested in court. “Our Constitution guarantees equality, but judges are always cautious where custom is concerned. It would be a difficult, but important, case.”

The tension between modern equality and traditional identity is at the heart of the debate. At the University of Eswatini, law student Andile Shongwe framed it this way: “This is not just about names. It is about gender roles.
For too long, only women had to adjust their identity for marriage. South Africa has said men can now do the same. That symbolism is powerful.”
Traditional leaders disagree. Deputy Senate President Ndumiso Mdluli emphasised that surnames are integral to rituals and responsibilities.
“When a man abandons his surname, who will speak for him at the family kraal? Who will bury him? These are not small matters.”
Government officials in Eswatini declined to say whether they would approve a man’s request to adopt his wife’s surname. One senior officer admitted that no such application had been processed “in recent memory.”
Yet many observers believe the South African decision will influence attitudes in the region. Cross-border marriages are common, and legal trends in South Africa often ripple into Eswatini.
On Facebook, one young Swati quipped: “If Beyoncé can stay Beyoncé after marriage, why can’t a Swati man become a Motsa when he marries a Motsa?” The post drew laughter but also dozens of replies debating whether love or lineage should decide family names.
For now, surnames in Eswatini remain bound by tradition. The Masilela family will stay Masilela, the Dlamini’s will stay Dlamini. But in homes, classrooms, and courtrooms, the South African ruling has cracked open a question many thought was settled.
And in that question, who carries whose name, lies a deeper conversation about identity, equality, and how much custom should shape the lives of future generations.

