Deconstructing patriarchy, one ritual at a time
I love weddings. I even like the parts pastors aren’t supposed to enjoy—the flowers, dresses, hair, and make-up. People have their heads full of Kate Middleton, as they dreamed of being a princess for the day. They ended up pouring a fortune into a ceremony that could easily morph a simple religious ceremony into a frenzied, commercialized ball of stress.
The couple had to down Valium to enjoy it, and they knew that they must extract pleasure from every minute of it because they bought all of the suggested extras that the wedding coordinator had to offer. Then they figured in the photographer’s ultra-pack of memories. And they fell for the pretentions of friends who grew up in the Junior League and regularly checked wedding invitations to see if they had the right watermark. Now they would never be able to afford the down payment on a house.
As I sat with Alisha and Corey, the anxious couple, I realized that I loved weddings because it was also chance for me to deconstruct the rituals and attempt untangle our traditions from patriarchy. From the very moment that the fiancée slips that glittery stop sign on her finger, marking her as claimed property, while the guy’s digits remain suspiciously naked, weddings can resemble a decorous chattel rounding.
