Many observers were upset by a recent Japanese Supreme Court verdict that affects a woman’s right to choose her name. The Court upheld as constitutional a 19th century Japanese law that requires Japanese families to have the same last name (which, in practice 96 percent of the time, means a woman must take her husband’s surname).

Many people criticized the verdict as, well, so 19th century. Some say, given the significance of names, the verdict violates a woman’s basic right to determine her own identity. One of the plaintiffs, in tears after the Court’s decision, said, “My name is Kyoko Tsukamoto, but I can’t live or die as Kyoko Tsukamoto.”

The verdict also depresses many people who have recently become hopeful that Japan is changing. Prime Minister Shinzo Abe has highlighted the significance of “womenomics,” calling for the creation of “a society in which women shine.” Indeed, given its dwindling demographics, the country’s future economic health (and thus its national power) depends either on immigration (for cultural reasons, not gonna happen) or on Japan’s ability to economically empower more members of its population. Perhaps this legal verdict suggests that the goal of empowering Japanese women will remain elusive.

Is this a fair take on the recent Supreme Court action? I don’t know. I’m not a legal scholar so don’t want to weigh in on the legal appropriateness of the verdict.  Legal scholars may decry the verdict as clearly running afoul of the Japanese Constitution, as did all three of the women Supreme Court justices, “on the grounds that it imposes irrational conditions on people who marry and restricts the freedom of marriage.” Alternatively, legal scholars may agree with the decision of the Supreme Court that the law —despite the fact that it dismays many people— is, in fact, constitutional.

This brings us back to the fundamental role of the Supreme Court versus that of the legislature. It’s not the job of the Supreme Court to legislate; only to rule on the constitutionality of laws. Japan’s Supreme Court has now done that. Now, the elected officials of Japan can decide whether to pass a new law that would allow women to keep their surnames. If the people want this done, and the Diet refuses to do that, then the voters should vote those representatives out and elect representatives who promise to pass the laws they want.  Japan is governed by her people: if the Diet does not act, this is a reflection that the Japanese people accept current laws as appropriate for their society.

In my own view, the decision what to call oneself is intensely personal, based on family and professional considerations. I wrestled with this issue myself, keeping my name for professional reasons. Over the years I have discussed the topic of names with my friends — girlfriends pondering what last name to use, and new parents deliberating how to handle the issue of their child’s surname. Such deliberations are fraught with emotions about gender equality, family relationships, adoption, and careers. Names on my Facebook feed reflect that people sort this out in a wide variety of ways: some Tiffany traditional, some California creative. Why on earth would I presume to weigh in on these deeply personal decisions? Likewise, in my view, it’s certainly not the government’s business to intervene.

Some governments do intervene: in addition to Japan, in Germany, in some Scandinavian countries, and elsewhere, a variety of restrictions apply. For example, parents can’t name their children whatever they want; the government must approve the name. I personally think that’s wrong, but those are democracies. The people govern themselves; if they don’t like the law, they can change it.

Japanese women, what do you want to be called? Your Supreme Court can only decide what laws are constitutional; your elected officials, however, have to answer to you. Regardless of what you call yourself, your friends around the world will support you all the way.