You know it’s funny I’m even writing about this because there is no future husband to speak of. However, my family was having a conversation and I voiced my opinion about it. I will not be walked down the aisle. I don’t care what it stands for for anyone else, what it means in tradition, culture, how adorable it is, I Don’t Care. I am not property, one. I do not have any issues walking, two. And I learned how to walk when I was 10 months old, three. I don’t need any help. I’m obviously good at it. So here’s the deal, my family is Dominican. I grew up with a traditional Dominican family. Some of that rubbed off, like language, style of cooking, dancing, physical features, and pride. Now all that is well enough, but I also grew up American, music, language, liberal, feminist. And yes I include feminist because in my family the fact that I am a feminist is attributed to the fact that I am American. My “ideals” come from all I’ve learned in my culture as an American.
Whatever, I don’t care much about where or why my family believes I’m a feminist, what I care about is making them understand how I feel about some of their traditions. I don’t think anyone needs to be a feminist to feel the way I feel, it is a personal decision. So let’s leave walking down the aisle with your father for later and let’s talk a little about how the women in my family, mostly in Dominican Republic, are.
I do not need to serve my husband at all times, we can take turns. Example: He cooks I wash the dishes, I cook he washes the dishes. If he wants food at a party he can get up with me and serve himself. He has legs so do I. We can accompany each other. If I do get up and get his food as a favor he can do the same for me another time. I should not be expected to serve my husband first, as he sits down and drinks, and serve myself later because he is a man. My aunts looked at my cousin in disapproval when she didn’t go get food for her boyfriend at a party. I on the other hand gave her a smile and high-five. Also I do not wish to change my last name, I like it. There is no reason why I should have to change my entire identity because I got married. He doesn’t have to. If his name is John Smith and he gets married he remains John smith, why should I go from Jane Jone to Jane Smith.
It’s different if we compromise and agree to hyphenate our names as a demonstration of our companionship. I say our as in he and I, not only I. Well my family had a trip with that one. They said I would never get married because no man would ever change or add to his last name for me. They say I’m too complicated and I will be alone forever. I hope everyone is beginning to understand some of the things my family expects from a woman in marriage. I won’t say all of my family, we’re a big family, not everyone is the same, some people understand me, but more often than not people look at me with pitying eyes. I don’t get offended, it’s what they believe, how they grew up, but they shouldn’t expect me to be like them. I have my own opinions and my own beliefs.
So when I said I do not wish to be walked down the aisle all hell broke loose. My grand uncle said I was basically being brainwashed. I was letting myself be influenced by others. My father who I’ve told this to before, upon finding support from his uncle, leached on and attacked my beliefs and made it personal towards him, but really what is the necessity of being walked down the aisle. “To be given away!” my grand uncle said.
“And why should I be given away?”
“It’s tradition!” he responded.
“I don’t care much for tradition,” I answered. “I don’t belong to my husband! And I don’t belong to my parents! I do not need to be given away by anyone. My dad can walk my brothers down the aisle if he wants to walk someone.”
“I will not walk your brothers down the aisle!” my father said.
“Well then that’s my condition. You want to walk me down the aisle walk my brothers too.” There was a really funny reaction to that in the room. I was trying no to laugh really, before I got angry, that is. I thought my uncle’s eyes were going to pop out.
“Where have you seen a man being given away at a wedding!” My father yelled and my uncle chimed in in agreement.
“There are plenty of weddings where the man is walked down by his parents. It’s not an anomaly. If you want to walk me down the aisle that’s the condition. I’m doing this for you not for me. I don’t wish to be walked anywhere like a child. I stopped holding your hand to cross the street a while ago!”
It continued in this way back and forth, my being attacked with only the support of my mother who said she was not walked down the aisle by her father so what freaking tradition were they talking about, but it didn’t end well. My father got very angry and told my mother it was her fault I was like this, because she was always on my side. As if the person I am was the worst person I could be.
In the end, that discussion changed nothing, I feel the same way. I learned how to walk when I was ten-months-old, my dad was very proud. Now that I am independent and choose to, when the time comes, walk my damn self down that aisle, he should be proud of that too. I understand it’s an emotional rite of passage for him, but it is a personal decision for myself. He shouldn’t take it personally against him because I’m not trying to hurt him. I love him and I love my family and my Dominican heritage, but some things I just don’t agree with. All over, this tradition lives, being walked down the aisle, in Dominican Republic and in the United States and well to both of my cultures I say good luck with that. Have fun with it. I don’t judge anyone who appreciates the tradition or chooses to be walked down the aisle, I simply choose not to. The funny thing is, I am no where near being married.
Words About Words 