Yewande Omotoso is an architect, and a writer. Her debut novel Bom Boy was shortlisted for the 2012 Sunday Times Fiction Prize and won the South African Literary Awards for first time author. Yewande blogs at 1of6billion<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n
So let\u2019s say I\u2019m getting married. Firstly we\u2019d have covered the bit about I\u2019d prefer to keep my name. I\u2019ve dated men who haven\u2019t found this terribly bothersome and I\u2019ve dated others who have. Someone once asked why I couldn\u2019t double-barrel my name. It\u2019s like, as a woman who chooses to marry, you\u2019re either destined to change your name-identity completely or your name develops a Velcro complex and picks up someone else\u2019s along the way. But compromise is a good thing, right? So I thought of the double-barrel thing. And I also wondered why I\u2019m being so headstrong. I mean I love the guy, right? So take his freaking name, double-barrel it, Velcro him to me for life. And what about the children? Well, what about the children? Well, the love of my life continued, shouldn\u2019t we all have the same name, like a team? I really liked that image. Being a team with my hypothetical family, like sharing DNA is insufficient, we all need the same surname too. Nice. So then maybe we could all Velcro our names, the man included. Then our union isn\u2019t so much about a woman having to attach herself but about two individuals coming together, both shifting somehow, both adapting. Yeah, a kind of a \u201cI\u2019ll double-barrel if you double-barrel\u201d kind of thing. Okay so my hypo-fianc\u00e9 was cool with that and we\u2019re going with it. I\u2019m counting on his surname not having as many vowels as mine and that it\u2019s half the length of mine (in order to save line space, ink, paper, trees \u2013 the whole thing).<\/p>\n
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After the debacle of a name we were so proud of ourselves and our ability to work through the really tough things in life that he proposed on the spot. I questioned him as to whether he would have freaked if I did the proposal instead. I offered him a form to fill out, the result of which clarified for me whether or not he\u2019s the kind of man to be put off by a woman performing traditionally male activities. If I proposed would it have upset some fine balance between the sexes? So many books are written about how as women we shouldn\u2019t compromise our femininity, let him change the bulbs, let him chase you, it\u2019s some primal cave-time code you\u2019re messing with so back off. Heck, I don\u2019t know. The feminist in me wants to say \u201cback off yourself, my femininity is intact, I\u2019ll do what I damn-well please\u201d but a lonelier version of myself thinks \u201coh, is that it?\u201d. The two sides are holding talks and trying to reach an agreement, just waiting on the Middle-East peace talks to successfully conclude. Anyway suffice to say whoever I shack up with would pass the form with feminist flying colours.<\/p>\n
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Planning the wedding. I\u2019m lucky to belong to a big community so we sweat over the long list of guest names, we consider robbing a bank so we can invite all our friends. It gets resolved by some miracle or other. I refuse to relate to the \u201cbig day\u201d as some kind of ultimate Mecca for women, the happiest day of my life because I\u2019m getting Velcro-ed. It\u2019s the day a man I\u2019ve fallen completely in love with and who loves me back will now be referred to as my husband rather than my boyfriend. Lover still sounds better but it is all semantics. We\u2019re really joined now, to un-join would be expensive and messy. And embarrassing. All those guests, the great food long-forgotten, pissed off with you for lying \u2013 \u201ctill death\u201d my foot.<\/p>\n
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The real issues start with questions like, do we do it in a church. Well I\u2019m not particularly Christian. My Grandmother is though and I love her so if she insisted I\u2019d do it for her. Okay, that was easy enough. But, I\u2019ll have to stress to Granny, I won\u2019t have any priest telling me about cleaving myself to the man, about being subordinate, about how he\u2019s the head of the household (I know for a fact that my hypo-man can\u2019t even multi-task, how the heck is he going to head the household?). I will insist on the right to veto any Bible passages that are meant to be read out. I\u2019d, of course, prefer Rumi, Rilke, Kahlil-Gibran or even the Ifa Corpus as potential sources for readings but\u2026Granny might not be appreciative. Again I\u2019m not against compromise. The Bible has some good stuff too. I love that quote: \u201c\u2026a time to tear apart and a time to sew together\u2026\u201d. Needle work was really big in those days.<\/p>\n
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When it comes to vows we write our own. And if the man I\u2019ve taken as my bestest of best friends opens his mouth and his vows end up rhyming I\u2019ll stop the ceremony there and then, give him a chance to apologise (I have a very generous and forgiving nature) and if he stares dumbfounded, I\u2019d have to conclude he has absolutely no comprehension of what really matters to me and I\u2019d be making a very big mistake to Velcro my name to his. Wedding cancelled, guests are welcome to keep the party favours. But this won\u2019t happen. My man (my hypo-man, remember) is way too everything-good to have missed the fact that rhyming vows are not okay. Instead he crumples his piece of paper (of course), puts his hand to his heart and speaks from there, not bothering to wipe away the tears \u2013 the big baby. Sigh.<\/p>\n
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Oh, but even before the vows there\u2019s that whole thing about \u201cwho gives this bride away\u201d. Now, I love my father. My father is basically my hero. My mother, my other hero, passed away over a decade ago. If she were alive I would have both my parents walk me down the aisle, one on either side. I hate the idea of being shifted from one man to another, no, please no. If there is any \u201cgiving away\u201d to be done at all it should be from both parents, surely. But even this notion of parents giving away children is strange. In The Prophet<\/i> Gibran writes: \u201cYour children are not your children\u2026They come through you but not from you, and though they are with you yet they belong not to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
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But I don\u2019t want my father to be injured. I also want to honour him, and my mother in spirit, for doing all the good things parents should and more. I\u2019d happily hold my father\u2019s hand and walk a few steps towards another man who happens to be the guy I\u2019m about to marry. I\u2019ll get over all my hang-ups. But maybe we could remedy the situation. I could carry a placard with me as we walk (elegantly, grace needn\u2019t be compromised). The placard will hold the main tenets of my issue with this aspect of traditional wedding ceremonies, Times New Roman Font, 50pt. That way as we walk no one will confuse me for selling out on my feminist principles.<\/p>\n
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Dave or Femi or Frikkie or Ghandi or Chang (whatever this guy I\u2019ll be with till death goes by) puts a ring on my finger, I put one on his. We kiss. I mean we really kiss and then we have a party. Oh, I forgot the best part, I\u2019m wearing something I either bribed my sister-in-law into designing and sewing or it\u2019s something I drew up myself. I know it\u2019s not white, I know it\u2019s not long and while I consent to lace there are absolutely no frills, no veils, no trails.<\/p>\n
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Seating is undramatic. I worry that the placard, now hung up on the wall behind the main table, is not visible to all. Chang (dear ever-patient ever-generous unthreatened Chang) tugs my hand and assures me it\u2019s fine but he knows me well so he also makes a call for a 100pt replica to be prepared as well as a folder to be handed out to all the guests with the contents of the placard, a beginners feminist reading list and a Beyonce CD. The new placard is posted up before the starters are served. I\u2019m thrilled with my new name Yewande Omotoso-Gong. Needless to say we live happily ever after, we argue aplenty (Chang belatedly realises I\u2019m a nightmare to be married to) but we also make up, our combined EQ and IQ get us through the bad patches. And don\u2019t forget the great sex which we enjoy well into our 70s. Chang eventually dies from an acute case of backache and I take up with a toy-boy, he eventually dies of backache too. I live till I\u2019m 100 although I never re-marry and I keep my Velcro-ed name despite considerable pressure from Green Peace. Chang Omotoso-Gong, I miss you.<\/p>\n
By: Yewande Omotoso<\/strong><\/p>\n Yewande Omotoso is an architect, and a writer. Her debut novel Bom Boy was shortlisted for the 2012 Sunday Times Fiction Prize and won the South African Literary Awards for first time author. Yewande blogs at 1of6billion<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n
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