I’ve always loved weddings. The glitz, the glamour, and the pomp of it all are so undeniably appealing to me. They’re the closest to a fairytale a girl can get. What’s not to like about heavily embroidered gowns under glittering chandeliers, dancing with your family into the night, and food so delicious it leaves you unable to move for a few minutes?
I’m sure, you too, have fantasized about the big fat Indian wedding that our families seem to splurge lavishly look on. A lot of my childhood memories include these celebrations, more notably the embarrassing incidents like accidentally stepping on the bride’s train as an unreliable flower girl, or throwing up after getting too full on the selection of desserts offered at the buffet.
But the fantasy dissipates every time I realize that a wedding is essentially a farewell to the bride from her natal family. Her parents bidding a very expensive goodbye, packing her off like a very disposable commodity to her in-laws. Her to-be husband’s property.
My middle name is Queen and it empowers me. Just imagine the superiority complex that stems from the fact that your name- an integral part of your identity is something like ‘Queen.’ The notion of me having to give my very royal name up in favor of adopting that of my hypothetical future husband is comical to me at this point.
Men aren’t expected to take their wives ’ names as a ‘symbol of their union,’ aren’t they? Then why should I have to?
But that reminds me of my mother’s good friend Ilangovan. After deciding to live together with his partner, Geetha, he chose to take her name for a surname. In social media, he still goes by Ilangovan Geetha, as unapologetically as his wife does, Geetha Ilangovan. That’s where my standards lie right now, you see.
Another couple that restored my faith in this field of compromise in names after they wed is another one of mom’s friends, Ayyanar who took his wife’s name, Vishnupriya on his social media accounts, when she opted to keep her maiden name. Above all, I like how it was a matter of choice for both of them.
If a man’s title stays Mister before and after his wedding, his wife’s title becoming Mistress after the occasion shows her changing identity. She becomes his mistress; his as in, she belongs to him first, in name and title, before she belongs to herself.
And if me leaving behind years worth of memories in the house I grew up in is expected of me to settle in with my partner, and not of them as well, the idea seems laughable to me. Apart from the fact that I am physically incapable of being the stereotypically shy bashful bride, hiding her blushing face behind a veil, the concept of being subservient to someone I marry and their family doesn’t entice me one bit. The husband surely isn’t obligated to take care of his wife’s parents in a way she’s guilt-tripped into doing, is he?
Western culture glorifies the idea of the bride’s father walking his daughter down the aisle, and while it sounds sentimentally thoughtful, isn’t it essentially the woman being handed around from a man to another? Is the idea of a tearful goodbye to a young woman the definition of a wedding?
It all began in a time when marriage alliances were strategic means of uniting and strengthening kingdoms. We’re way past kings and queens so why aren’t we over the fact that women, now with autonomous rights, are entitled to their own identity, and not that of their fathers and husbands?
And, personally, I’d rather enjoy my parents spending their money on my education and my interests if they wanted to spend on me at all, than as a ridiculously stereotypical farewell present, dubbed a wedding.
***
Author
Leina Queen
A teen in her eleventh grade, Leina loves to write, bake, cook, sing, binge-watch anime, illustrate and do a dozen other crazy things. She believes in gender equality and equity. She is a passionate reader and chef de cuisine. She dreams of being a Chefpreneur soon.
