Try to remember the last time someone outside your own head used your actual first name, not “Mumma”, not “Aunty”, not your husband’s surname stitched onto an invitation, not “Sharma ji’s wife” at a society event. For many women, the honest answer is: it’s been a while. This has probably been true for years without bothering you much. In perimenopause, when so much else about your identity already feels unsteady, that quiet erasure can suddenly feel unbearable, like proof that you’ve disappeared into everyone else’s version of who you are. If a stranger calling you “Aunty” on the street has started landing harder than it used to, this is why, and it’s not vanity, it’s something worth taking seriously.

Quick Answer

Perimenopause often brings a broader identity disorientation, questions about who you are outside your roles, and this can make it suddenly painful to notice how completely you've been renamed "Mumma" or "Aunty" by the people and world around you. This reaction is common and meaningful, not oversensitive, and small, deliberate acts of reclaiming your name and identity genuinely help.

  • Being renamed by relational roles (Mumma, Aunty, someone's wife) is common in Indian family and social life, and often goes unnoticed for years
  • Perimenopause's broader identity shift can suddenly make this erasure feel painful in a way it didn't before
  • "Aunty" as a term carries a loaded cultural weight in India tied to ageing and invisibility, which compounds the feeling
  • Small, deliberate acts, correcting people, using your name in new spaces, help rebuild a sense of individual identity
  • This is connected to, but distinct from, the general "I don't feel like myself" identity shift many women describe in perimenopause
Why This Hits Differently Now
1
Perimenopause already destabilises identity. Body changes, mood shifts, and a changing relationship with fertility all raise the question "who am I now", which makes you far more attuned to other signals that your individual self has gone quiet.
2
"Aunty" carries specific cultural weight in India. It's not a neutral term of respect the way it's sometimes framed, it's often shorthand for "older, unremarkable, no longer individually seen", which makes it sting differently than a role label like "Mumma" does.
3
Years of accumulation surface all at once. This erasure didn't happen overnight, it built up slowly across decades of being addressed by relational titles, and perimenopause is often the moment the accumulated weight of it finally registers consciously.
4
Lower emotional bandwidth makes it harder to brush off. Something you might have shrugged at a decade ago, a stranger calling you "Aunty", a form asking for "Mrs. [Husband's name]", can now trigger a genuine wave of sadness or anger because your emotional resilience is already stretched thin.

Why Does Being Called “Aunty” Bother Me So Much Now?

Because it isn’t really about the word itself, it’s about what the word carries. “Aunty” in Indian public life is rarely used as a warm, individual term, it’s a catch-all for a certain age and a certain kind of invisibility, applied the moment a woman crosses some unspoken threshold, regardless of who she actually is. Being newly sensitive to it in perimenopause isn’t vanity or denial about ageing, it’s a reasonable reaction to being folded into a category instead of being seen as yourself, at a moment when you’re already working hard to hold onto a clear sense of who you are.

Is This Different From Just “Not Feeling Like Myself”?

Related, but more specific. The broader “I don’t feel like myself” experience many women describe in perimenopause is often internal, about your body, mood, and energy feeling unfamiliar. This is more external and social: it’s about how the world addresses you, and how thoroughly your name has been replaced by your relationships to other people, your children, your husband, your household role. Both can be happening at once, and naming them separately can actually make each easier to work with.

Does It Matter That I Chose Some of These Roles Myself?

Not really, and it’s worth being gentle with yourself here. Choosing to be a mother, a wife, or an active part of your extended family doesn’t mean you signed away the right to also be addressed as an individual. Loving your roles and wanting your own name to still exist alongside them aren’t contradictory, most women hold both without any tension until something, like perimenopause, brings the imbalance sharply into focus.

What Actually Helps?

Small, low-stakes corrections add up. Gently telling a new acquaintance, a delivery person, or a younger relative your actual name, rather than letting “Aunty” or “Mumma” stand unchallenged, is a small act that rebuilds a habit of being addressed individually. Introducing yourself by your own name first, in new or semi-formal settings, before anyone assigns you a relational title, changes the default more than you’d expect. Having at least one space where you are known only by your name, a hobby class, a professional context, an old friend group, a support community, gives your individual identity somewhere to exist without competing against your family roles at all.

In the Indian Context

This experience is extremely common and rarely spoken about directly, which can make it feel isolating even though it isn’t unusual at all. Many Indian women go decades being addressed almost entirely through relational titles, wife, mother, daughter-in-law, aunty, without it ever being framed as something worth noticing, let alone naming. If you have daughters or nieces, this is also a useful moment to notice how you address other women too, a small habit that ripples further than it seems. /community connects you with other Indian women who describe this exact experience, often with real relief at finding it isn’t just them, and /guide has more on identity and selfhood through this stage of life more broadly.

Small Ways to Reclaim Your Name
Do Introduce yourself by your own name before anyone else assigns you a title
Do Gently correct people who default to "Aunty" or "Mumma" in contexts where it doesn't fit
Consider Keeping at least one space, a class, a friend group, a community, where you're known by name alone
Avoid Dismissing your own reaction to this as vanity or oversensitivity, it's a reasonable response to real erasure

Frequently Asked Questions

Is it wrong to feel hurt by being called “Aunty” by a stranger? No. It’s a common, understandable reaction, especially in perimenopause when identity already feels unsteady. You’re allowed to find the term reductive even while accepting that it’s usually said without any unkind intent.

How do I correct people about my name without seeming rude or making a scene? A simple, warm “Please, call me [name]” said once, without over-explaining, usually lands well. Most people adjust easily when asked directly and don’t experience it as confrontational.

Will this feeling pass once I’m through perimenopause, or does it stay? It varies by woman. For some, the acute sensitivity does settle as broader identity questions stabilise post-menopause. For others, it becomes a lasting, positive shift toward more consciously asserting their own name and individual identity going forward.

Could feeling erased like this be a sign of something like depression, not just identity change? It’s worth distinguishing the two. A specific frustration about titles and roles is different from a persistent low mood, loss of interest, or hopelessness that colours everything. If it’s the latter, that’s worth raising with a doctor directly rather than working through it alone.

The Second Spring is an information resource, not a medical provider. For personal advice, speak with your doctor or gynaecologist. Write to us at thesecondspringofficial@gmail.com