By Sangeeta Pai
When I was a little girl, my brother and I were the best of friends—probably attributed to the fact that we used my Barbie dolls as targets for his GI Joe and He-Man figures, I played basketball and tennis with him, and we shared the same favorite colour: blue. Perhaps with these interests I shouldn’t have been all that surprised when I wound up having more “boyfriends” than “girlfriends”. Moreover, I never fell into the category of wanting to get married, dreamed of a perfect wedding or a prince charming.
I was always a bit “different” than the other girls in my age group. Maybe it was because my parents instilled career as the forefront of life’s importance that meeting Mr. Perfect was always secondary, if not last on my list. But whatever the reason, marriage and a wedding were nothing more than words in a dictionary to me. I wanted to be a successful woman, which I believed would be defined by my career and profession.
At the cusp of the big 30, an age many girls consider the expiration for achieving milestone moments, I am ecstatically engaged. While I may never have thought this day would be part of my life or that Love would feel so magical, what surprises me more is how quickly things have changed once I wore a piece of “bling”.
From the day I announced my engagement and have had the most beautiful sparkle upon my ring finger I have noticed a change from the girls around me. Suddenly the ring has become a barrier, almost as though it symbolizes a wall between my “single friends” and I. Becoming a “housewife” is all people ask about, discussions of how “cool” and “liberating” being single is are now commonplace in front of me and the closest of “girlfriends” plan nights out without me. This somewhat reaffirms my subconscious decision to have more “boyfriends” than “girlfriends”.
While I may have never imagined the perfect wedding when I was a child and watched while the girls around me pranced around with veils made from pillowcases, it is again I who is “different”. My decision to get married has somehow led to the judgment that marriage has now completed my life, a judgment that comes from some who have known me since I was a child. It tickles me to think that although I am no longer single, I am the one who is “singled” out.
The discovery of this has led me to believe that as much as your friends see you wearing a ring, what they are really seeing is the ring. Girls forget their friend still exists and she might be starting a new chapter in her life in the same way you would if you move countries, start a job or go back to school. I am willing to accept things change but is it so hard to believe the person who wears that ring may not be a different person because of it?
Am I meant to feel my life is complete and perfect because I have someone to share it with? Am I entirely wrong in thinking perhaps these girls want what I have and will not just come out and say it? True to myself and what I believe is important to me, I still spend more hours looking for jobs and studying than I do planning my wedding. I admire and perhaps feel jealous of my friends who have successful careers, started their own businesses and found their passion—however I would like to believe that I don’t single them out for doing so.
As South Asian women of a new era we often blame our parents for pointing out we are getting old and we are not married. We snicker at our aunt three times removed who has sent us an advert from shaadi.com of a man who lives 30,000 miles away and is looking for Love.
BUT, I think it’s time we take a step back and ask ourselves if we, as women of the younger generation, are silently perpetuating the desire to be married as much as those of older generations. Are we really that different from our parents and their parents when it comes to marriage?
While it might seem easy for me to sit on my high horse of “engaged” and demand that women come out with the truth, I admire those who honestly tell it. I appreciate my friends and contemporaries who are not afraid to say they want to get married, who wish me from a very honest place without hiding behind their own façade of enjoying singledom and who understand that there might be importance in life for a married woman beyond the realm of marriage.
From times immemorial, as a gender women have hidden behind a veil and bottled up what matters to them. But we can no longer blame society; surprisingly women are their own enemy and we have ourselves to blame. I wonder, if you cannot be honest with your closest friends and feel you are being judged by the women of your own generation, have we really progressed?
When I think back to playing with my brother, of course I miss the simplicity of life as a child, but what I miss most is the honesty and freedom that came with it. I never felt isolated because I enjoyed playing with boys more or judged because I didn’t like the colour pink. I did not laugh at the girls who walked around in their mother’s heels or took ballet while I found passion in tennis.
While I know that passage of time can create the vices of judgment and jealousy I have a request for single women. The next time your friend picks up the phone to share with you the joys of her engagement and you longingly stare at your bare ring finger, try not to forget she is still the girl you went to pre-school with, got ready for prom with, or graduated from college with; even if she might seem limited by the ring, a part of her dreams as a little girl still exists and wants to be remembered.
More importantly, as privileged woman of the 22nd century we need to have a voice that is honest and bold, and keep an open mind so we can tell the truth and not be afraid of being judged by “girlfriends”.
