on being a feminist bride, and other awesome stuff I write on other people's blogs. yeah.

image from Juju mama

A post I wrote on Mia Freedman's site, Mamma Mia regarding feminist brides and virginal white, being given away and promising to 'love honour and obey'.

The question posed by Mia was something along the lines of, "were you a feminist bride"... and Mia cited an example of her own interpretation of traditional marriage rites, her bridesmaid carried Mia's son down the aisle, as a fair rejection of the 'well, I'm not a virgin' assumption from days past.

My response:

Yeah, I’d like to think I was a feminist bride, even if it wasn’t a conscientious choice to be ‘a feminist bride’ – I just wanted to do things our way.


So… we got married at home, in our backyard, without about 70 or so guests (and that was a massive number blow out). We stood around and had beers with our mates before the ceremony, and then the celebrant asked everyone to assemble outside and we came out together, me, N and my daughters. It was lovely. He wore black jeans, a shirt and volleys, I wore a dress my mother and I made from black fabric and some gorgeous white lace – not what I had originally intended to wear! (I wanted to wear jeans and a tshirt!) But what we created from some fabrics that we found and loved.

We catered ourselves, asked a few friends to make some desserts.

We didn’t have rings. Neither of us are that in to jewellery, so it was a pointless exercise, exchanging rings.

We asked each of our dads to read some hilarious excerpts from a couple of books a friend gave us, ‘dont’s for wives’ and ‘donts for husbands’.

In place of the traditional giving away, the celebrant asked our friends and family if they would support us in our lives together, to which there was a resounding, and heart warming ‘YES!’

There was not a hint of ‘honour and obey’, rather, heartfelt words, and “do you promise to be a fabulous husband”… I laughed and joked the whole way through… it was a beautiful, glorious interpretation of a traditional rite that I had all my life advocated doing away with.

OMG, and the flowers! So N had brought home stacks of fluffy white chrysanthemums from his work, and we had lots of vases of chrysanthemum spread around the house. It was beautiful… I ended up with a bouquet (!) because there was 3 gorgeous roses out the front of my parents house, from a bush called ‘Julia’s rose’ (my sister’s name, I think I gave it to them when she was born?) that the night before I asked my mum if she could cut and bring over for a bouquet.

And we didn’t have a wedding cake – instead a dessert table. Cos I love dessert. So it was amazing, beautiful. A great day had by all. The whole thing was very mutually planned and organised too – I think that’s significant. Because I’m a terrible decision maker and not prepared to shoulder all/the bulk of the responsibility for what is supposed to be *our* day. Plus, obv N wanted a say in it, to us that seemed completely normal but I understand that often, brides don’t want their groom involved at all.

AND WE DIDN’T HAVE BUCK’S/HEN’S NIGHTS. Again, a mutual decision, but this whole ‘last night of freedom’ thing is bullshit, insulting and demeaning to the commitment we were making (and had already made) to each other.



And… I read offbeat bride and East side bride - both fairly religiously, as great blogs that were incredibly reassuring for knowing that it was ok to do things our way, because the important part of the day was not how the photos looked, or whether my shoes or hair or *everything* was perfect, but rather, the vows. The presence of friends and family and the commitment that we were fortunate enough to be able to make to each other.

Incidentally, I have read in a lot of places (particularly offbeat bride, because that's where I frequently read stuff) comments women made about their justification for changing their name being that they 'were not particularly attached to their surname' and that they 'wanted to have the same surname as their children'.
I didn't change my name, never had any intention of doing so, and nor was it expected of me by either my husband or my family. Why? Because I like my surname, I'm quite attached to it because I've lived with it for 31 years, and wasn't about to sacrifice this for another (albeit nice) name in honour of a cultural tradition I don't endorse.
And... I *do* have the same name as my children, because they have my name. If we had more, they would also have my name, it's not really a question for either of us, and as such I wonder if the comments that women make with regard to 'not being particularly attached to their surnames' come from the assumption that they will change their name as they get older?
I don't care if people know or not know that N and I are married; that wasn't the purpose of the exercise. So in this sense, name changing seems like a superfluous exercise.

I'm tired and cranky. It's uni holidays and I'm being extraordinarily unproductive, in spite of having a gazillion things I should probably be doing. It's also school holidays, so the girls are home. This may have a significant influence on my productivity, I'm not sure. There's also the likelihood that it's just because I'm lazy.

This dress, I love:

(from Style Hive)
And it makes me wonder why I am doing white lace on black. But, meh. I'm a bit over the clothes thing, anyway.

Seems I'm not alone in drawing hand-made love notes as invitations. Well, kind of. Flush Designs used a collage of the love notes given between her and her (now) husband as the basis for her order of service. It's gorgeous, like a glimpse in to some very personal moments between them.

Awesome.


Slightly less sappy (and I suspect I like it a little more for that reason) are these ones, from Porterness on etsy:

Nothing more awesome than the truth. And kitty cats pimpin' cards. Awesome.

Oh, fuck.

I was just looking through the offbeat bride and was reminded that according to the Marriage Act 1961 our celebrant is obliged to say some crap about how, in Australia, marriage is a legally binding blah blah between a MAN AND A WOMAN to the exclusion of all others.
Now, I don't. agree. with. this. at. all.

It completely contravenes my feelings regarding love, people, and the notion that the heart knows no gender boundaries, and that marriage should be a right for all regardless of sex or sexual identity. It is at odds with everything I am trying to raise my children to understand - that laws do not dictate love (within reason: we're not talking child brides here, peoples - but then, I tend to think of this as something that is the product of religion more so) so I am at a bit of a loss as to how to circumvent this problem in our ceremony.
I'm not at all comfortable with the exclusive nature of the Australian Marriage Act.

Currently I'm trying to get my head around how I, as a feminist, can not only endorse, but actively engage in something that effectively deliniates one group of society from another, based on something as arbitrary as who they love. Not sexual preference, but love. Because to me, that's what it ultimately boils down to: N and I have (gloriously) realised that we are at a point in our relationship where we've decided, that "yeah, this is it, and it's awesome" and others, who also reach this point, cannot (legally) express this in the same fashion.
Kind of rough, isn't it?

Further, associated with marriage are all sorts of patriachal symbols that I wish to thoroughly disown. I've thought about this somewhat, though, we can condemn the symbols that oppress us, or we can reclaim them, call them our own and effectively repurpose them to represent what we want. It's the same logic I use with my frequent use of very naughty swear words.
Thus, marriage becomes not about possession and submission, but rather, strengthening and sharing the bonds of love, not just with each other, but with everyone else - friends and family alike. And I suppose that's why my family and N's family are overjoyed that we're doing this - (in my mother's words, "about bloody time") because then they too can join in (join hands? Figuratively speaking, NOT literally) and say something along the lines of "hey this makes me really happy".

I just don't like that it's so damned exclusive. And so, I continue to voice my discontent.

So, apart from blathering on about how I never planned a wedding, never dreamt of my wedding day, never envisioned myself getting married (when we played weddings at school, I was the celebrant, when we played mums and dads, I was the crazy aunty that visited occasionally from some far off corner of the world and bought the most AWESOME gifts - and wore funny hats)... and have even outwardly stated that "I don't think I'll ever get married"... but, you know, like in that Ms Jackson song, "forever never seems like a long time till you're wrong".
Mind you, I'm quite happily wrong about this.

Cutlery, crockery, and all things servingware

Are plastic plates an absolute no-go?

In the process of planning our little backyard 'event', N and I have had to give thought to what people are actually going to eat off. Normally a mishmash of new and old plates are dragged out of the cupboards for people to use, and in some scenarios, the paper plate makes an appearance. It is an outside event, after all, and being the pseudo-greenie that I am, I can rationalise and justify using disposable products by buying those that are already made from recycled paper to begin with.

Trouble is, they're kinda cheap looking.

And while cheap isn't really a concern of mine, it's not what I would choose if I wanted to set this particular backyard 'event' apart from every other occasion, and doing so seems somewhat important to me at the moment, as if to give some indication of the brevity of the ceremony, while still doing it in a uniquely N & Katey kind of way.

Yet, this seems preferable to the plastic alternative:

from http://i244.photobucket.com/albums/gg40/hikimmo/WriteShop%20Images/217-809PaperPlate9.jpg

versus

http://partywarehouse.co.nz/zen/images/Plastic%20Plates%20White.jpg

I don't know. But I suppose it is one of those very important things that I will need to work out sooner rather than later. Like what we're wearing, and other crap like that. Meh.

Plans, eh?

So we have 10 weeks till -the date- and I am aware that we have much plans to make, and put in to action.
Yet, motivation is so....
freaking
hard
to
find.

Which is not to say that I don't want to go through with the ceremony - THAT part I'm actually really excited about. What I'm not keen on, is the organisation of having some kind of 'not-your-average' barbeque, with expectations from friends and family that things should look and be a certain way.
Actually- I don't even care about their expecations... so is it my own that concerns me?
I don't know.

I thought that it'd all be easier once I sorted a dress out. In keeping with this, I kept the girls home from school, and went shopping in an effort to gain some inspiration and ideas on appropriate outfits. In doing so, I was reminded just why I dislike shopping - the arduous process of trudging shop to shop, trying on things and, more frequently, not trying things on because it is clear that they would be unflattering/too small/too long/wrong colour.

Thus, the entire experience becomes extraordinarily depressing, reminding myself that I actually *do* have body issues, reinforced by the presence of my daughters' and their critical eyes.

(not that I begrudge my daughters' presence, by any means!)

So, we are as yet dress-less. I admit though, secretly, the idea of getting a dress at the absolute last minute appeals to me.