What We Lost When We Stopped Saying “Mrs.”

Recently, a friend of mine had a baby. We bought them a gift, and as I signed the card, I paused. What will this child call me? I am not an aunt, though that name now seems freely bestowed on close friends of the mother. Yet it does not feel modern to suggest “Mrs. Brusven,” my last name being difficult enough to pronounce as it is!

As I thought back to what I called my friends’ mothers and older women growing up, they were always Mrs. Last Name or, if we were especially close, Mrs. First Name. But there was always a title. These days, the idea of titles is considered elitist, outdated, or classist. Even worse, sarcastic. After I moved from the South to the Western USA in high school and called my teacher "Ma'am", I was similarly ridiculed by my peers. Yet, I cannot help but wonder if we have lost a language of dignity for women in our pursuit of equality.

While we make an effort to refer to women in positions of authority or dignity with titles, like Catherine, the Princess of Wales, or Congresswomen, we fail to note the inherent dignity of womanhood in each of us.

Open the pages of Jane Austen or your grandmother’s diary, and you will find stories of women whose names were always accompanied by a title. To omit it would have been unthinkable, and certainly rude. During the rise of feminism in the 1960s, those honorifics began to be viewed as symbols of marital status, which was suddenly deemed private rather than public information with the inversion of home life. Soon after came the decision by some women not to change their names at all, and in some cases, for husbands to take theirs instead.

In trying to make women more equal, society altered the language that once gave them distinction. As only a woman’s title changed upon marriage, feminists sought to remove what they saw as inequality. Yet in erasing that difference, something more profound was lost. Traditions, once erased, often are accompanied by deeper communal losses

The way we speak forms the way we think. Language builds a culture of its own, shaping how we view ourselves and others. The fading of titles coincided with the decline of etiquette and formality, and as we have moved away from proper introductions, gracious manners, and care for words, we have lost the vocabulary of respect.

Today, we often struggle to express respect because we no longer have a framework for it. We hesitate to speak formally for fear of seeming outdated, though by aiming to be relevant, what we have really abandoned is the beauty of distinction. Without formality, reverence becomes uncomfortable, and dignity feels unfamiliar.

The loss of titles also mirrors a broader discomfort with femininity. We are uneasy with what is refined and beautified, preferring commonness under the guise of authenticity. Yet in avoiding formality, we often choose to lose beauty in the everyday. Real beauty calls others upward. It invites grace, proportion, and purpose into our words and relationships. It isn't just whatever feels nice.

Notably, after the loss of her husband, Charlie Kirk’s widow made it an emphasis to be called Mrs. Erika Kirk in all introductions and features. Perhaps we are beginning to see a shift back to the recognition of formality, bringing dignity? No matter where you come from or your accomplishments, adding a “Miss or a Mrs.” in front of your name brings a type of respect the world has lost. Something we yearn for, really. 

Our casual age celebrates informality as if it were freedom, yet it often feels more like loss. The disappearance of titles reflects a broader cultural tendency to strip beauty and poetry from daily life. From art to architecture, we have accepted the bare minimum for the sake of sameness and have exchanged elegance for efficiency and reverence for convenience.

Something in us still yearns for the old order, for meaning, ceremony, and grace. So next time you write a note, introduce a friend, or greet an elder, pause before you speak and consider adding “Miss” or “Mrs.” or even a "Ms." to her name. It will not only make her feel seen but remind both of you that honor is not outdated.

In a world desperate for meaning, even a small act of respect in our language can begin to restore the beauty we have forgotten.