“I used to think the worst fate was to be a wife.” — Jo’s letter to Laurie in Little Women (the new movie, don’t remember this being in the book but it’s been a while)
I was afraid of getting married. No one I knew had a good marriage. Some people seemed to actively dislike their spouses. There was too much expectation, endless disappointment, and staying together for the wrong reasons. Plus, I’d always said I’d change my name if I got married because I hated how my last name tied me to a person and a family I had no connection with anymore.
When husband asked, I panicked. In an instant I had to reckon with all the feelings I’d had about getting married, changing my name, being a wife, and tying myself to this person (who I did love very much and had no interest in separating from, even in that terrifying moment). It took me until morning to realize I did want to say yes. But even then, we kept it secret from almost everyone for another few months while I worked out some feelings. I was the proud new owner of a master’s degree and had a job using it (sort of), I didn’t want to only be acknowledged as the proud new owner of a ring. I had stuff to do. A planet to save.
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| I'm pretty sure no one else has such a smirky wedding photo. |
Even right up until we got our license I was still leaning towards changing my name. But then my sister texted a photo of her new social security card with her (not so) new name. She had a completely new identity. Her old name didn’t exist anymore. If she got divorced and changed it back, she wouldn’t resurrect an old identity, she would create a new one all over again. And I had this shiny new degree, a slightly dusty old degree, and a signature I loved for its laziness. Would I really create a new identity just because I got married?
I didn’t. If it wasn’t an expensive and time consuming hassle I may have inched closer to doing it. If my birth name is my father’s and my married name is my husband’s, then I have no name no matter what choice I make. Husband liked his name and didn’t want to create a new one for us both to share, so I decided that my name is my own. It’s on my documents. It’s in my email addresses. It’s been mine for my whole life. Even if I didn’t get to choose it at birth, I chose it when I got married. And now I love that I made that choice. I love that everyone who knows me knows I made that choice. I even love that the people I’ve met in the last six years have no idea I made that choice and that they could one day find out and have an entirely new opinion of me. And, probably, of my husband.
My name is only an outward sign of our relationship, just like my wedding band. I usually only wear my engagement ring on special occasions, mostly because it feels too thick stacked, but also because I feel like it’ll get damaged (I’m not a careful person). Even if that wasn’t the case, I’d probably still only wear my wedding band because I like what it telegraphs. I know who I am. I know who we are. I don’t need or want more than this simple symbol, just like he has, to indicate our relationship. A flashier ring doesn’t make us any more married. In fact, another childfree married couple we know skipped the rings entirely because they just aren’t jewelry people. I think that makes them even more secure. It’s certainly better than the people who see their wedding rings as a shackle.
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| Smoochie kiss. |
But it wasn’t just the last name question I grappled with. It was also the title. Wife had a deeply negative connotation. It seemed like such a silly girl thing to aspire to be: I probably could have said yes when I was 18 and at least once more in my 20s, and those would have been disastrous decisions. Getting a man who has been conditioned to believe he needs a wife is hardly an accomplishment. I hated how it would imply that I was second, that I belonged to someone else, that there was some level of subservience. I also hated “husband” and all that it implied (commander, controlling, absent, decision-maker).
But, six years in, I actually do belong to someone. And he belongs to me. It’s not about ownership, and not even just because “owner” is an extraordinarily loaded word for both of us. It’s about making a choice. After we got engaged we did a few pre-marital counseling sessions because I believed that having big conversations guided by a professional would do nothing but help us in the long run. One of the questions this professional asked us was, paraphrasing, “what is love?” He practically gave husband a gold star for his answer: it’s a choice to make every day. I thought he was hokey at the time but turns out he’s right: we choose each other above all else. We have been for a long time, well before our ceremony. Choosing each other looks different every day. Some days it’s choosing to stay in on a weekend and sit in near silence on the couch, watching something together or doing separate activities and touching toes. Others it’s choosing to be their support at a professional event or visiting their family. It can be doing an activity they’re really interested in that you kind of aren’t, or doing something that takes a lot of work because they’ll really appreciate it. It can be doing all the chores because they had a long week or even just washing the smoothie blender because they hate washing it. It’s talking about plans before making them and it’s making plans knowing they’ll be on board. It’s choosing to show affection in public, and choosing to show affection at home. It’s choosing what to ask for, knowing they’ll want to say yes simply because you asked. It’s choosing to say no to other people and demands (and sometimes even to opportunities). It’s choosing to listen and to have really hard conversations. It’s choosing to be vulnerable time and time again. And it’s always, until death do us part, choosing what to have for dinner.
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| Showing off our new bling the next day |
We are both fiercely independent people who choose to be together every day because we want to, not because we need to. We are partners in every way (and about half the time I refer to husband as my partner). At our wedding, our officiant told the story of the choice that we make to commit to each other, that we’ve been making that choice for years and that day decided to make that choice with witnesses. Every wedding anniversary we choose to have another one and this year is no different. I choose another year.
