I have been mulling over the F word lately. Lots of reasons. Probably starting with the wedding. In my formative years, resisting society’s expectations of women centred around marriage. An off-shoot of that was whether you should be called Mrs or Miss or, how radical, Ms. I remember pimply faced bank clerks sneering at Ms as an answer to their question Miss or Mrs (purpose not explained) “Can’t get a bloke can ya!”. I was a young solicitor and judges asked me: “Are you Miss or Mrs” (for the official court record) “Ms, Your Honour” I answered back (so daring!!). First judge drummed his fingers on the bench “Well in my court you will be Miss!” he barked. Second conservative judge murmered mildly, peering over his glasses at this unusual specimen: “I understand you are Ms”. Amazing to recollect it. So much fuss over such a little word. Not so long ago.
Working as an Industrial Officer, I always wanted to do a poster depicting the happy bride and groom leaving the church to illustrate why women did not get equal pay. Later, I realised it should have been the happy couple leaving hospital with the first-born, that is when the disparity in career progression and pay really sets in. In my day very few of my close friends married – and here we all are over 20 years later with the same partners and enmeshed in our joint lives with children and mortgages. What’s the difference? Critical I say – to my independent state. So there you have it – weddings have always had an emotional resonance for me!!! Don’t do it I cry to the young women. Increasingly to no effect. And I find myself completely outside the zeitgeist re the gay marriage debate – I know equality and all that – but who would seriously want to!
So back to the wedding! I watched it with my daughter playing the drinking game that was all over Facebook and checking out the clothes. (Another feminist no-no in my group). I loved checking out the hats – silly Mrs Cameron passing up the opportunity, and do get off Beatrice and Eugenie’s case people – if you’re going to wear one it might as well be over the top (and if their mother wasn’t invited why not do something to steal the show?) And I enjoyed critiquing the blokes regalia. I love the fact that the men had as many treacherous choices to make as the women – what colored vest to go with what colored / cut of suit, what style tie and tie-pin and most of all who was entitled to wear what uniform and behold – spurs – (only the cavalry are entitled – didn’t you know). My assessment for what it’s worth, is that the Brits are the most unstylish people in Europe. The girlfriend (described as his fiancee) of Prince Albert who was himself attired in grey penguin suit with matching gloves, was the most stylish woman.
Anyway, I was determined on the night not to be distracted by diatribes (from me) about the patriarchal institution, bride as chattel being handed over from father to husband etc., though there was plenty of symbolism to that effect on the night. No, I thought, this can be enjoyed for the spectacle it is – silly people, representing silly things putting on a show. If you don’t like it – just don’t watch. And for heavens sake don’t tweet around narky criticisms of this or that – which I was sorry to see lots of my favourite tweeters spent the night doing. Noteworthy that one of the most famous English tweeters did just what I suggested – ignored the whole palaver and tweeted about a snooker game instead.
Despite my best intentions of course the whole thing did re-ignite old passions. I just couldn’t believe that in the 21st century, at a global event, the same tawdry jokes about the best man getting his leg over the bridesmaid would be doing the rounds – just like they did in those country halls all those years ago. Spare us folk -not one bit witty – and sexist to boot!
We were also, in my day (back in the dim dark years) opposed to messing with our natural looks! Funny reading the memoirs of the children of hippies and feminists – they remember the hair! So all very confronting reading Tina Fey’s memoir Bossypants which, whilst I reckon it is a deeply feminist book, is packaged up in a way that would not have been possible in my day. Lots of references to very politically incorrect things – photoshopping better than botox? We were passionately opposed to both! But the fundamental message of the book is really the old anthem – we are women, we are strong, take us as you find us and don’t treat us differently ‘cos we are women. Good to see open references to sex and bodily functions and child birth etc. But a bit dispiriting that men are still saying things like ‘women can’t be funny’ (the much lauded Christopher Hitchens!) and still applying double standards to women in all sorts of situations – she gives lots of examples. And the pressures on working women trying to balance work and family – and all the associated guilt about whether they are being good enough mothers – remain almost as strong as ever. What progress have we made?
Well we might ask when you see the rubbish response to suggestions Tim wanted to pop the question to Julia – all the jokes re-surface – will she wear white – snigger! Good he’s making an honest woman of her. Serious journalists wrote articles about this and opined about it’s political consequences. This all illustrates the deeply ingrained attitudes that congeal around the state of matrimony. A conservative institution through and through. Underneath the sugar coated exterior of princess dresses, prince charmings, pomp and ceremony – lies a bitter pill for the free spirited. Marriage was designed, and remains a vehicle to fit people into strait jackets – pre-determined roles of strange things called wives and husbands that all sorts of people, and indeed society as a whole has a view about, based on a lot of historical baggage. It’s fundamentally an institution designed to allocate property, impose responsibilities, inhibit personal freedoms and allow the state (and – god forbid – the clergy) into personal relationships and bedrooms.
So there you go – after all these, unmarried, years – I remain as passionate about it as ever, who’d have thought.
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Hear hear!!