OK, so I just said I was extremely privileged in my relationship/marriage/wedding-planning. Why, then, did I decide to get married, since I do feel very strongly about marriage equality and not everyone has the right to get legally married at this point in time? Why, too, did I decide to have a big, white wedding, since I abhor patriarchal symbolism and, really, what else is a wedding but a whole bunch of patriarchal symbolism wrapped up in a big party?
(You all might not be curious about these things. But I want to write about them, and this is my blog. So there!
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The easy answer to both of those questions, and the one completely ignorant of my privilege, is simply: I don’t know. Part of me would like to play the it-all-happened-so-fast-and-felt-like-the-right-thing-to-do card and call it a day, but that isn’t really true. I’ve been thinking of ways to subvert the patriarchal stereotypes of weddings since I was in 7th grade an announced that I wanted to have a green wedding dress (ironically, one that looked EXACTLY like this in my 13-year-old brain. Don’t believe me? Ask any of my best friends; they’ll tell you this is no joke, although they probably thought it was at the time). Then again, when I was in undergrad, I announced – along with many of my other liberal-minded friends, that I didn’t really want to get married and that simply cohabiting would be perfect for me. Perhaps surprisingly, my sentiments echoed this post that so upset me rather strongly. It wasn’t until just before Tim proposed – when I had a strong sense that it was coming soon – that I seriously started thinking about my wedding. Our wedding. Because it wasn’t just about me anymore. And, honestly, the preliminary thoughts resembled more of a backyard BBQ than the big, white, soiree we are in the midst of planning right now.
So what changed? Let’s tackle the wedding part of this question first, since that seems easiest to explain. Quite simply, the decision to go for the big party stemmed from the fact that we just couldn’t cut the guest list down to the size of a backyard BBQ. We wanted everyone who meant something to us to be there! (Well, almost everyone. Guest lists really are horrible and awkward beasts when it comes right down to it.) Coming from rather large families and having a bunch of good friends, this shot the guest list up to soiree-sized in no time. Why go for the white dress instead of the green, you ask? Well, I grew out of the I <3 everything Renaissance a while ago and, besides, was there a time period during which women were more oppressed than the Renaissance?! So why not at least have a modern dress that shows some skin… because, right now, I can. And why white? The answer is easy: I fell in love with the 6th dress I tried on. If I didn’t, I may have looked at different colors and options, but I did, and I still love it every time I look at it. And if there’s one day in your life to have the dress you love, it should be your wedding day.
Now, you can argue that I was socialized to love the white dress and that if the media wasn’t so white-dress-bridal-gown heavy that I wouldn’t have made that decision. That may be true, but the fact of the matter is, I fell in love with the dress. I love the way it makes me look and the way it makes me feel, so I got it. That’s pretty much all there is to it. I know, I know, you can’t just ignore patriarchal symbolism that has existed for centuries surrounding the white dress as a symbol of blah blah blah… Actually, yes I can. How can you change stereotypes without turning them inside out and making them your own, all the while showing everyone else how it’s done? Our wedding is going to be one great big party, not a political statement. And trust me, we’re not doing anything we’re really uncomfortable with (ahem… garter toss…) and we are doing quite a bit to subtly subvert the traditions and stereotypes surrounding weddings. (I’ll write more about that later, as the day approaches.)
Next up: Why marriage? Why enter willingly into this patriarchal institution that has been a form of ownership since… always? Why not wait until everyone has the same rights as a sort of protest against the government?
These are good questions, and I’m surprised no one has called me out on this before, because I fear I don’t have a good answer. But I’ll do my best.
I chose marriage because I believe in marriage and, more importantly, partnership. I believe that a strong and supportive marriage can not only make two separate lives feel whole, but can serve as an example of grace and love and strength and social consciousness and devotion and individuality and support. You may say that I don’t need a piece of paper to have these things; lots of people do it without the legal aspect – lots of people can’t even have that legal aspect. To which I say: you’re right. I don’t need a piece of paper to say that I love Tim and he loves me and we’ll be together through it all. But I am the type of person who needs milestones to mark off different points of my life – birthdays, new jobs, the beginning of each school year… a ceremony. Hence, the wedding. Could we have a ceremony without the legal paper signing? Sure. But I’m honestly just not sure what difference it would make.
I believe that everyone in this world has a right to love and decide to spend their lives with whomever they choose, and I believe that strongly. I am privileged in this respect; I can decide to do that and then do it. Many of my friends, students, people I respect and care for deeply do not have that right. However – and this may just show how deep my privilege runs – I just do not understand not getting married as a protest. For one thing, as an unmarried couple living together, you’re actually paying the government more money in taxes. For another thing, it just doesn’t seem like a very effective protest. I mean, show me an effective protest, a petition, a march on the streets, a school demonstration, a boycott and I’m there. But this doesn’t seem very organized; it just seems like a smattering of people saying they won’t get married until everyone can. So, instead, we’ve chosen to work together through our marriage to fight for marriage equality and against oppression. You might say this is me justifying my selfishness and my privilege, and that’s fair. But if that’s what you’re going to say, please explain how this type of protest is effective because I really don’t see it. I’ve looked for explanations and asked around, but I simply can’t find something comprehensive on this topic.
As far as entering willingly into this patriarchal institution that has traditionally been another form of ownership, and not being able to ignore centuries of oppression in the form of marriage etc., etc., I refer you to my response to a similar argument about my white dress: How can you change stereotypes without turning them inside out and making them your own, all the while showing everyone else how it’s done? My wedding may not be an overtly political statement, but my marriage will. We’re really excited about getting married and showing the world what an equitable marriage and supportive partnership looks like. We’re excited to make a difference hand-in-hand. We’re excited to take on the world.
And, frankly, finding not only the person who makes me deliriously happy, shout-off-the-rooftops in love and who respects me, and is ready to fight to make a difference with me is reason enough for a wedding, a marriage, and a lifetime.
This post is part of an ongoing series about feminism and relationships. Have something to say? Submit a guest post to samsanator(at)gmail(dot)com! And, of course, you can always comment here!
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