The report comes to you from the first month of married life, but is such an important topic that I wanted to give it the full attention of its own post.
Last year, before we were engaged (we didn't have a single holiday season as an engaged couple), my ex-boyfriend-now-husband and I decided we were sick of being told Thanksgiving is a holiday. For other people, it is a holiday, and it's great for my mom that she thinks it is the best holiday all year. But it's not our style, for a list of reasons as long as my arm.
For the many years I spent being forced to participate in Thanksgiving, I resented my family and hated the holiday. Steve didn't resent it as much, but wasn't a fan. Last year we decided we'd spend the whole day at home, alone, and cook lasagna. This was instigated by my mother finally freeing me of my obligation to spend Thanksgiving with family (due to events the year before, which shall go unaccounted).
It was great. As soon as I wasn't being forced to partake in the traditions that mean nothing to me, I stopped dreading November and hating the beginning of the holidays. That first Nonthanksgiving was probably the reason I was even willing to set our wedding date in November. It also gave me the strength to say, "Hey, guess what? This is what we are always going to do, for as long as it keeps working for us."
A huge weight had been lifted. Our baby family has its first holiday tradition that is all ours: Lasagna for Nonthanksgiving. That's what we did this year, too -- Our First Married Nonthanksgiving. Before we made lasagna, we took the dog for a hike. We saw five deer, who appeared to be celebrating a Nonthanksgiving of their own. Truly a lovely afternoon. I hope to duplicate it next year.
The best thing is that I don't have to waste energy on hating Thanksgiving any more. No one can make me celebrate it. I have the security of a husband and of our own tradition, and I wish for us this scale of success on every holiday project.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Married Life: On Month 1
The actual wedding took place on 12 November, but we're leaving for our cruise honeymoon on Friday, so there's no chance of blogging on the day of the one month wedding anniversary.
It's really too bad that I wasn't able to blog more during the two months directly before and after the wedding, but a wedding is completely exhausting and I really didn't have much energy for anything other than remembering to brush my teeth before falling asleep. The whole thing is a bit of a happy blur. I like it that way (blurred, I mean). It means I won't remember the specific things that went wrong. (It's true that tiny things go wrong on important days; don't kid yourself on this point.)
So what has married life been like so far?
1.) Our relationship, home, and ways of living are exactly the same as they were before. This is good; it indicates that we were open and honest about our expectations for married life and that our habits were pretty close to our ideal before getting married.
2.) A lot of people suddenly want to know when I'm going to start popping out babies. Some of the time this question bothers me and some of the time it doesn't. It all depends on who is asking, what the context is, and what other possible topics of conversation are on the table. I have a supervisor at the main place I volunteer who is trying to get pregnant. Discussing my/our plans with her seems relevant to our workplace friendship. Discussing my/our plans with the apartment maintenance guy does not. My MIL wrote a note about wanting to see "the products of your love;" that was totally inappropriate, if you ask me, and she's more likely to end up with a sex tape than with a grandchild.
3.) We're married, but our cat is still a bastard.
4.) I thought I had made a lot of noise about keeping my name, but apparently I haven't made enough. I'm trying to stay amused when people call me "Amy I." I figure the mistake will happen for the rest of my life and I need to not let the anger burn constantly.
It's really too bad that I wasn't able to blog more during the two months directly before and after the wedding, but a wedding is completely exhausting and I really didn't have much energy for anything other than remembering to brush my teeth before falling asleep. The whole thing is a bit of a happy blur. I like it that way (blurred, I mean). It means I won't remember the specific things that went wrong. (It's true that tiny things go wrong on important days; don't kid yourself on this point.)
So what has married life been like so far?
1.) Our relationship, home, and ways of living are exactly the same as they were before. This is good; it indicates that we were open and honest about our expectations for married life and that our habits were pretty close to our ideal before getting married.
2.) A lot of people suddenly want to know when I'm going to start popping out babies. Some of the time this question bothers me and some of the time it doesn't. It all depends on who is asking, what the context is, and what other possible topics of conversation are on the table. I have a supervisor at the main place I volunteer who is trying to get pregnant. Discussing my/our plans with her seems relevant to our workplace friendship. Discussing my/our plans with the apartment maintenance guy does not. My MIL wrote a note about wanting to see "the products of your love;" that was totally inappropriate, if you ask me, and she's more likely to end up with a sex tape than with a grandchild.
3.) We're married, but our cat is still a bastard.
4.) I thought I had made a lot of noise about keeping my name, but apparently I haven't made enough. I'm trying to stay amused when people call me "Amy I." I figure the mistake will happen for the rest of my life and I need to not let the anger burn constantly.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
The Name Game
There are few things as emotionally fraught for the peri-bridal woman as the discussion of surnames. There's a lot that can be said about the name game, and the problem with having a rational discussion on the topic is that most things said about it are a crock.
Example: I grew up in a home where I was the only individual with my surname. My mother, step-father, and brother all had a different name. And the only way I can remember ever being bothered by this was that other people worried so much about how my last name impacted me. Which it didn't -- aforementioned crock.
It did not present legal problems. It did not present problems at school. No one ever freaked out or fatally misunderstood my mother when she said, "No, I'm not Mrs. Amy's-last-name; she has her father's surname."
It's a bigger deal to me that my mother had to give up naming her daughter what she wanted than that I have my father's last name, because guess what? Once you live with it for over 24 years, it's not your father's last name anymore. If you want it to be, it's just your name. I'm only sorry for her that she missed an opportunity to pass down a name she loved. I don't plan on making that same sacrifice.
I like my last name. The key word in that sentence is not "like" but "my." My last name. Mine mine mine. If I was just picking a last name out of the clear blue sky, maybe I'd pick something different. "Wilder." "Dresden." "Bewilderforce." Who knows? But right now, my surname, L., works just fine, thank you.
Now, I'm not going to be negative about FH's surname, because it's fine for him and he's had it for over 29 years, so there's clearly no need to trash it. In some ways, it's good that he doesn't want to change his name; it lets him relate to how little interest I have in changing my last name. Because, while there is a certain novelty to the idea of changing my surname to "Bewilderforce," there's absolutely no appeal in turning into "Mrs. FH." The honorific Mrs., when picturing it applied to me, makes me gag.
It stands in for "mistress." I'm nobody's mistress.
Obviously, this is a personal decision, as it damn well should be. Far be it from me to criticize the feelings of a woman who really wants to change her name, or who just doesn't give a rat's ass and is picking other battles. Fine. Run along, be empowered. You have my full support.
My personal feeling, for my circumstances, is best summed up by Meg:
This is what I had to come to terms with: That I would continue to feel anger past the point of making the decision (which wasn't even a decision, as I never even considered changing my name) and making it known. My decision will continue to be indicative of an uneven playing field.
Let's be honest: That sucks.
Some time ago, when I was in the darkest depths of teenagedom, I wrote an autobiographical poem. I don't remember the poem and I no longer have a copy of it, but I do recall the final sentence: "Be careful with my name." Certainly nothing else I wrote during teenage hell was so prescient.
Example: I grew up in a home where I was the only individual with my surname. My mother, step-father, and brother all had a different name. And the only way I can remember ever being bothered by this was that other people worried so much about how my last name impacted me. Which it didn't -- aforementioned crock.
It did not present legal problems. It did not present problems at school. No one ever freaked out or fatally misunderstood my mother when she said, "No, I'm not Mrs. Amy's-last-name; she has her father's surname."
It's a bigger deal to me that my mother had to give up naming her daughter what she wanted than that I have my father's last name, because guess what? Once you live with it for over 24 years, it's not your father's last name anymore. If you want it to be, it's just your name. I'm only sorry for her that she missed an opportunity to pass down a name she loved. I don't plan on making that same sacrifice.
I like my last name. The key word in that sentence is not "like" but "my." My last name. Mine mine mine. If I was just picking a last name out of the clear blue sky, maybe I'd pick something different. "Wilder." "Dresden." "Bewilderforce." Who knows? But right now, my surname, L., works just fine, thank you.
Now, I'm not going to be negative about FH's surname, because it's fine for him and he's had it for over 29 years, so there's clearly no need to trash it. In some ways, it's good that he doesn't want to change his name; it lets him relate to how little interest I have in changing my last name. Because, while there is a certain novelty to the idea of changing my surname to "Bewilderforce," there's absolutely no appeal in turning into "Mrs. FH." The honorific Mrs., when picturing it applied to me, makes me gag.
It stands in for "mistress." I'm nobody's mistress.
Obviously, this is a personal decision, as it damn well should be. Far be it from me to criticize the feelings of a woman who really wants to change her name, or who just doesn't give a rat's ass and is picking other battles. Fine. Run along, be empowered. You have my full support.
My personal feeling, for my circumstances, is best summed up by Meg:
I have been near blindsided by how angry I still feel over this choice. When mail comes addressed to me as Mrs. Meg His, I ask David to take the label off before I get home, so I don't have to see it. When someone addresses me as Mrs.** I literally get shaky with rage. And I didn't expect that response! What is that response? I mean, my mother is a first wave feminist, for gods sake, and she uses Mrs.! Why am I so so angry about it?
And then this weekend I figured it out on a real tangible level. We were having a long conversation with a lesbian couple who are good friends of ours, and the name change discussion came up. After we'd cycled through talking about all the different choices (combining names, hyphenating names, picking a new name, picking one persons name... etc, etc) they started talking about how they didn't really have any idea about what they were going to do about their kids names (or their names after they had kids, even) and they'd figure it out somehow. And then I fully, fully emotionally realized why I was getting shaky angry, I realized why readers were writing me, literally in tears and rage at the same time (readers who want to take there husbands name write me like this, the same way people who don't want to take their husbands name write me like this). It's because we're used to a level playing field, and on this we don't have one. It's not anyone's fault really, but thems the breaks.
This is what I had to come to terms with: That I would continue to feel anger past the point of making the decision (which wasn't even a decision, as I never even considered changing my name) and making it known. My decision will continue to be indicative of an uneven playing field.
Let's be honest: That sucks.
Some time ago, when I was in the darkest depths of teenagedom, I wrote an autobiographical poem. I don't remember the poem and I no longer have a copy of it, but I do recall the final sentence: "Be careful with my name." Certainly nothing else I wrote during teenage hell was so prescient.
Hopes for Married Life (First in a Series)
I didn't even know that I was hoping for this until Meg posted it:
And this weekend, as we tipsily debated the differences in the New York City and San Francisco art scenes, and watched gender bending send-ups of Broadway Camp at a Gay Country Western Ball, I thought to myself, "Well shit. If society at large had bothered to mention that married life could be attending drag country western performances with your husband and debating art, pushing each other to do more than you dared, and having adventures together, it would have sounded decidedly more interesting / less terrifying. Why do people tell you it's all about slow misery and pillow buying?"
Monday, October 3, 2011
Offended and Contemptuous
A friend of my family has been left by her husband of 38 years. Until I learned of this yesterday, I would have called him a friend of the family, too.
The reasons I currently hold D. in contempt are five-fold:
1.) As a child who has been messed around by her father's romantic decisions, both as a kid and as an adult, I am offended that D. would behave with so little regard to the feelings of his adult children.
2.) As an atheist/UU who is often asked where my moral compass is if I don't have a god, I am offended that D.'s church-attending Christianity, supposedly the moral center of his life, will not be held responsible for his selfish behavior.
3.) As someone with very dear friends who are gay, I am offended that D.'s casual disregard for the institution of heterosexual marriage is what the so-called "defenders of marriage" are fighting for.
4.) As someone who has spent the past year studying marriage and preparing to get engaged and then to get married, I'm offended that an institution I've learned to value so much -- an institution which I'm preparing to enter in less than six weeks -- is being shitted on. Unilaterally ending a 38-year marriage -- maybe dull, maybe unhappy, but certainly never violent, abusive, or corrupt -- is akin to murder.
5.) As someone who abhors cowardice, I'm offended that D. made no effort to fix his marriage, secretly packed his car, and left one morning. That might disgust me more than everything else combined. It reveals a very poor quality of character.
The reasons I currently hold D. in contempt are five-fold:
1.) As a child who has been messed around by her father's romantic decisions, both as a kid and as an adult, I am offended that D. would behave with so little regard to the feelings of his adult children.
2.) As an atheist/UU who is often asked where my moral compass is if I don't have a god, I am offended that D.'s church-attending Christianity, supposedly the moral center of his life, will not be held responsible for his selfish behavior.
3.) As someone with very dear friends who are gay, I am offended that D.'s casual disregard for the institution of heterosexual marriage is what the so-called "defenders of marriage" are fighting for.
4.) As someone who has spent the past year studying marriage and preparing to get engaged and then to get married, I'm offended that an institution I've learned to value so much -- an institution which I'm preparing to enter in less than six weeks -- is being shitted on. Unilaterally ending a 38-year marriage -- maybe dull, maybe unhappy, but certainly never violent, abusive, or corrupt -- is akin to murder.
5.) As someone who abhors cowardice, I'm offended that D. made no effort to fix his marriage, secretly packed his car, and left one morning. That might disgust me more than everything else combined. It reveals a very poor quality of character.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Thoughts on Marriage
I originally posted this piece at Radioactive Quill on August 10th.
Back in '03-'04, the radically radical and unelectable Howard Dean was all kinds of vilified for standing up for civil unions. Everyone gets the same rights, he said. If states want to expand the definition of marriage, that's their business.
And I admit it: I repeated the talking point. Later in '04, I repeated it for John Kerry. It made sense to me politically. Hell, it made sense personally; the gayest gay activist I knew was still bad-mouthing gay marriage during the 2006 elections, and even though I had come around, I wasn't about to tell him his life.
By early 2007, though, I was throwing down the gauntlet. I took a class called "Philosophy of Law." For the final, we were divided into teams and asked to make the case (in a sort of pseudo-moot-court setting) for or against gay marriage from the point of view of a randomly selected philosophy studied in class. I don't remember which philosophy we drew. I do remember that I, not my gay teammate, was the one who wrangled the five straight dudes and got everyone on board for unapologetic advocacy of gay marriage.
So what changed between 2003 and 2007? The world shifted politically, it's true. Maybe the wars fading from consciousness allowed social issues to take a more prominent role; I certainly remember feeling, in '03, that many things could be forgiven for a candidate who opposed invading Iraq. I wasn't feeling so generous when the primary season for the 2008 presidential began.
I do feel that the personal changes I went through during those years were more important than the political changes, however.
When you're young and starting college, if you're like me, you're straight with gay friends, and the gay friends seem exactly like you. They are puttering around and dating the wrong people and questioning the society they are about to join as full adults. They don't want to get married, because they haven't found anyone they want to be married to. I totally get that; I didn't want to be married, either, because up until I met FH, an empty and lonely life seemed preferable to all likely candidates. The thought of marrying someone other than FH still seems perfectly ghastly.
But at some point, a girl you know moves in with another girl. And maybe they adopt a cat. And maybe it happens slowly, or maybe it's a lightning bolt, but eventually you realize that they are going to spend their lives together. From deep inside you, from a place of empathy and love, comes the realization: "That's a marriage." And at that point, the idea of denying anyone what you yourself want to have some day seems so fucking cruel that it immediately jumps to the level of Litmus Test.
This isn't precisely the story of what happened to me. Honestly, I don't remember exactly who or what influenced my progression. I remember that it was like I just described -- that one day, the defenders of "traditional marriage" just seemed so mean and stupid and offensive that I wasn't willing to cede ground any longer. No one gets to dictate to others what the best and most meaningful way to love is, least of all someone like Rick Santorum.
In short, I grew up a little, and realized that, in the adult world, marriage matters a lot more than it did to me when I was a baby student.
I'm in a slightly different place now. I'm getting married three months from Friday. Getting married has made me a fiercer advocate for marriage equality. Just as I wouldn't join a restricted country club, I can't participate in an exclusionary institution without making extra-loud noise about how unfair my privilege is. My love is no better -- no purer, no more moral, no truer -- than the love of someone else, and I am deeply offended that anyone would presume to tell me it is.
By an accident of genetics, I'm a woman attracted to men. By an accident of genetics, FH is a man drawn to women. We are not champions of a traditional ideal and make no claims on that heritage. What we are is two adults in love who believe very strongly that our privileges should be extended to any and all two adults in love. If our marriage stands for anything, let it stand for that. Let us stand on the side of love.
Back in '03-'04, the radically radical and unelectable Howard Dean was all kinds of vilified for standing up for civil unions. Everyone gets the same rights, he said. If states want to expand the definition of marriage, that's their business.
And I admit it: I repeated the talking point. Later in '04, I repeated it for John Kerry. It made sense to me politically. Hell, it made sense personally; the gayest gay activist I knew was still bad-mouthing gay marriage during the 2006 elections, and even though I had come around, I wasn't about to tell him his life.
By early 2007, though, I was throwing down the gauntlet. I took a class called "Philosophy of Law." For the final, we were divided into teams and asked to make the case (in a sort of pseudo-moot-court setting) for or against gay marriage from the point of view of a randomly selected philosophy studied in class. I don't remember which philosophy we drew. I do remember that I, not my gay teammate, was the one who wrangled the five straight dudes and got everyone on board for unapologetic advocacy of gay marriage.
So what changed between 2003 and 2007? The world shifted politically, it's true. Maybe the wars fading from consciousness allowed social issues to take a more prominent role; I certainly remember feeling, in '03, that many things could be forgiven for a candidate who opposed invading Iraq. I wasn't feeling so generous when the primary season for the 2008 presidential began.
I do feel that the personal changes I went through during those years were more important than the political changes, however.
When you're young and starting college, if you're like me, you're straight with gay friends, and the gay friends seem exactly like you. They are puttering around and dating the wrong people and questioning the society they are about to join as full adults. They don't want to get married, because they haven't found anyone they want to be married to. I totally get that; I didn't want to be married, either, because up until I met FH, an empty and lonely life seemed preferable to all likely candidates. The thought of marrying someone other than FH still seems perfectly ghastly.
But at some point, a girl you know moves in with another girl. And maybe they adopt a cat. And maybe it happens slowly, or maybe it's a lightning bolt, but eventually you realize that they are going to spend their lives together. From deep inside you, from a place of empathy and love, comes the realization: "That's a marriage." And at that point, the idea of denying anyone what you yourself want to have some day seems so fucking cruel that it immediately jumps to the level of Litmus Test.
This isn't precisely the story of what happened to me. Honestly, I don't remember exactly who or what influenced my progression. I remember that it was like I just described -- that one day, the defenders of "traditional marriage" just seemed so mean and stupid and offensive that I wasn't willing to cede ground any longer. No one gets to dictate to others what the best and most meaningful way to love is, least of all someone like Rick Santorum.
In short, I grew up a little, and realized that, in the adult world, marriage matters a lot more than it did to me when I was a baby student.
I'm in a slightly different place now. I'm getting married three months from Friday. Getting married has made me a fiercer advocate for marriage equality. Just as I wouldn't join a restricted country club, I can't participate in an exclusionary institution without making extra-loud noise about how unfair my privilege is. My love is no better -- no purer, no more moral, no truer -- than the love of someone else, and I am deeply offended that anyone would presume to tell me it is.
By an accident of genetics, I'm a woman attracted to men. By an accident of genetics, FH is a man drawn to women. We are not champions of a traditional ideal and make no claims on that heritage. What we are is two adults in love who believe very strongly that our privileges should be extended to any and all two adults in love. If our marriage stands for anything, let it stand for that. Let us stand on the side of love.
From "The Commitment"
Starting on page 119:
When I can't sleep -- something that happens at least three nights a week -- I sometimes just sit and watch Terry sleeping. He takes a breath, there's a pause, he exhales, there's another pause. What, I wonder, would I do if this man stopped breathing? Can the day-to-day misery of being along be worth the risk of being absolutely shattered if Terry should die before me? If Terry were to die today, if a knock came at the door tonight, if some stranger arrived to tell me that I would never be able to speak to Terry again, or hold him, or look into his eyes, or smell him, or listen to him breathe -- just writing these words makes my stomach hurt.
Being single visits a kind of constant, low-intensity misery on a person -- at least on a person who doesn't want to be single. Coming home to an empty house, not having anyone to confide in, facing illnesses on your own -- being along hurts, but people can get used to it. But being in a long-term relationship doesn't spare you from all that day-to-day pain. It just banks it. Every day I'm with Terry, every day I'm not alone, a little misery gets put into a savings account, where interest is compounded hourly. The day Terry dies, all the pain I avoided when I was with him will be paid out all at once; I will suffer a windfall of misery. I imagine the pain would feel literally like being torn in two. Maybe that's what people mean when they talk about "one flesh"?
Monday, September 19, 2011
From "Marriage and Morals"
"It is therefore possible for a civilized man and woman to be happy in marriage, although if this is to be the case a number of conditions must be fulfilled. There must be a feeling of complete equality on both sides; there must be no interference with mutual freedom; there must be the most complete physical and mental intimacy; and there must be a certain similarity in regard to standards of values...Given all these conditions, I believe marriage to be the best and most important relation that can exist between two human beings...If marriage is to achieve its possibilities, husbands and wives must learn to understand that whatever the law may say, in their private lives they must be free."
- Pg. 143-144
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
An Athiest's Prayer
I'm getting married in 8.5 weeks, and I perceive a lack of web content that speaks to my situation. I don't need relationship help; we have a great relationship (if we didn't, we wouldn't be getting married). I don't need guidance for how to have a good marriage; I have my parents, as well as my larger community, as role models.
What I need is to be able to read and talk about things that speak to our ultimate goal: A wifeless marriage.
Historically, wives only exist as subordinate to husbands. That's pretty much over, as far as secular society goes. (You can have your own checking account, ladies! Woohoo!) That being said, the tradition lives on in a thousand little ways. For me, a part of getting married is disowning that history. It's not as simple as it sounds.
There are conservative Christian resources all over the web which teach how to embrace that history. Hell, a prominent Republican presidential candidate boasts about how she's a "submissive wife" and only got her degree in tax law because her husband told her to. If that doesn't make your skin crawl away, you probably aren't the intended audience for this blog. Don't come here looking for a help-meet, 'cause there ain't one at home.
So who is the counter-model? It's hard to say. Staying in the political realm for a moment, the Obamas seem to have a happy marriage, but I would not be content with ultra-feminine role that I perceive the First Lady to be fulfilling currently. These days I admire no one so much as Hillary Clinton, but the Clinton marriage hasn't been a picnic. Their love might well be genuinely unique, in a way that only the love of two first world leaders could be...but a marriage of two Alphas? Not for me. On an intense day I'm what you'd call an "A minus" personality -- and that's after three cups of coffee. My husband-elect identifies as an "alpha geek," exerting dominance over a small subsection of the population and nowhere else.
So I search, and read, and listen. This is as much of an introductory post or a mission statement as I can provide. After all, if I had the answers, I wouldn't be blogging.
What I need is to be able to read and talk about things that speak to our ultimate goal: A wifeless marriage.
Historically, wives only exist as subordinate to husbands. That's pretty much over, as far as secular society goes. (You can have your own checking account, ladies! Woohoo!) That being said, the tradition lives on in a thousand little ways. For me, a part of getting married is disowning that history. It's not as simple as it sounds.
There are conservative Christian resources all over the web which teach how to embrace that history. Hell, a prominent Republican presidential candidate boasts about how she's a "submissive wife" and only got her degree in tax law because her husband told her to. If that doesn't make your skin crawl away, you probably aren't the intended audience for this blog. Don't come here looking for a help-meet, 'cause there ain't one at home.
So who is the counter-model? It's hard to say. Staying in the political realm for a moment, the Obamas seem to have a happy marriage, but I would not be content with ultra-feminine role that I perceive the First Lady to be fulfilling currently. These days I admire no one so much as Hillary Clinton, but the Clinton marriage hasn't been a picnic. Their love might well be genuinely unique, in a way that only the love of two first world leaders could be...but a marriage of two Alphas? Not for me. On an intense day I'm what you'd call an "A minus" personality -- and that's after three cups of coffee. My husband-elect identifies as an "alpha geek," exerting dominance over a small subsection of the population and nowhere else.
So I search, and read, and listen. This is as much of an introductory post or a mission statement as I can provide. After all, if I had the answers, I wouldn't be blogging.
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