Today I got some amazing press from prominent local journalist Zane Fischer in The Santa Fe Reporter. (For those of you who are reading this from New York, the Reporter is Santa Fe's version of the Village Voice. In other words, it's a big deal.) As with most journalism, I have some minor complaints, but overall I would say that his critique is spot-on, and his major questions about it mirror my own feelings of frustration and struggle with the project. Also, Mr. Fischer is known for being brutally honest in his columns, so the simple fact that he didn't tear me to pieces is something to be proud of.
So why have I spent the evening depressed and mostly in tears?...
Because I thought I was going to see a boy tonight and he never called me.
Seriously. How DUMB is that?!
I'm doing well in my classes, I have an amazing job lined up for the summer, my family and friends are priceless, I'M IN THE NEWSPAPER... and still I'm an emotional train wreck because I didn't get one stupid phone call. I barely know this guy, and our interactions have been nothing but casual. Plus you'd think after 22 years of social interaction, I'd be able to handle the situation a little more gracefully. It's not like I haven't been through this (and much worse) before, and yet somehow it's still enough to mess up my whole day. WHY?
My reaction is so automatic and even visceral that I have to wonder if maybe I'm really just wired this way. In the class I'm taking on evolution and biodiversity, we often talk about evolutionary fitness simply as an individual's ability to pass on its genetic material. And in a scientific context, I totally buy that... as it applies to other animals. But now the tables are turned and I'm the individual in question: is all this superfluous emotion simply an instinctual reaction to this absent boy as an indicator of my current lack of evolutionary fitness?
In the introduction to The Second Sex, Simone de Beauvoir very critically points out the common patriarchal understanding that "woman has ovaries, a uterus: these peculiarities imprison her in her subjectivity... It is often said that she thinks with her glands." Reading that, I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it... and yet, here I am, seemingly a slave to my own reproduction-related emotions.
I'm sure a million and one dead feminists are rolling over in their graves as I ask this question, but am I genetically doomed to bemoan every non-existent phone call from now until my ovaries shrivel up and hot flashes take over everything? Is it possible that I'm just chemically programmed to suffer from extreme self-loathing until I find a mate?
Wednesday, April 30
De-Pressed
Tuesday, April 29
It's Time to Wake Up.
Today, in a very public space, a young man (who seems quite likeable from a distance) capitalized on a cheap opportunity to make a joke about someone being raped. It was very clearly meant to be an innocent joke, and it would have been easy to brush off the joke as "just another tasteless joke" or "just another day in college" or "just another ignorant guy"... but personally, I'm pretty f*!@cking sick of "just anothers."
So, immediately after he made the joke, I replied, "that wasn't funny."
He said, "that's fine, I'm still going to make the jokes."
I said, "that's fine too, but I'm still going to tell you if they aren't funny."
He shrugged me off, so I said, "if you'd been raped, you wouldn't think it was funny either."
His response, predictably, was something along the lines of "yeah, yeah, I know, grumble grumble," as if he was sick of hearing what I was saying, even though it was clearly not a subject he understood. So he was aware of how offensive his joke might potentially be, but he made it anyway. I find this behavior incredibly sad, and sadly quite common.
I understand that we shouldn't take everything seriously all the time. Humor is a necessity, and laughter is a gift. But what I simply cannot grasp is how people can make jokes even when the potential is so high for someone to be deeply offended, hurt, or shamed.
What frustrates me most about this situation is how blind the humor is. That is to say, it's impossible to know just how many people you could be offending by making a joke like this. When a person makes a racist joke in front of a group of people, chances are they have a least some slight knowledge of the races of the people around them. When a person makes a sexist joke, there are some generally reliable indicators of who might be offended. There are, of course, exceptions, but overall, most people know they're making a racist joke in front of a black person or a sexist joke in front of a woman, et cetera.
When this man made the rape joke, he probably didn't realize that, according to RAINN, ONE out of every SIX American women will be a victim of completed or attempted rape in their lifetime, and college-age women are particularly likely to be victims. But even if he had known this statistic, did he count how many women were in the room when he made the joke? Because if he had counted, he'd have realized that as soon as the word "rape" came out of his mouth, he was probably triggering memories of the worst moment of at least one girl's life.
***
With one single word, we are able to make someone else feel alienated, vulnerable, ashamed, worthless, filthy, or worse. And it's not just the word "rape." There are many other burdens that some of us learn to bear in silence and shame, as others unknowingly turn our lives in to comedic material. Every time someone makes a joke about AIDS or herpes, there's a good chance they're verbally brutalizing someone else. Every time someone makes a joke about substance abuse or addiction, they may be pushing someone else further along a downward spiral of self-destruction. And the worst part is that we're taught not to speak up about these things, so the cruelty is ongoing and without recourse.
This is all easily avoidable though. Think before you speak. It's not that difficult, and if we all did it, the difference it would make in our daily lives would be beyond measure.
Monday, April 28
The Beginning of the End
With exactly one week to go, I admit that I'm getting a little freaked out. I still don't fully know how this is going to end. I think I want to have some sort of closing ceremony, but some days I feel like that means a big party, and some days it means an intimate picnic with a few of my favorite women-types, and some days I really feel that the dress is asking to be burned. Some days I just think I need to go out and buy a new outfit that's indescribably comfortable, and wearing that around in public will be ceremony enough.
Regardless of any final celebration, I'm scared of what will come afterwards. I'm bracing myself for another post-partum depression experience; this project isn't my entire life, but it's certainly a major component. Once in a while I'm overcome with the irrational fear that I'll disappear without the dress. This whole undertaking has generated so much thoughtfulness and enthusiasm, and it has brought many new, wonderful, beautiful people in to my life; I can't help thinking about all the missed opportunities once I take the dress off.
***
I've been meaning to mention this for over a week now, but I met this bad-ass woman named Willow at the Roller Derby (where one of the skaters nearly wiped out because her skate got caught on my tempestuous hemline) and Willow has left two amazing comments in the blog, and I think both of them are worth quoting.
Posted here on 4/21:
"...Every marriage has it's elements of let down, hatred, disgust and depression. What you're feeling is quite normal. It's interesting that the exciting ceremony and party doesn't really affect the relationship at all. You still have to work on whatever you need to work on. You and the person you marry are still who you always were.
Remember, you married yourself, not the dress! Don't forget what it really is about. That might help you in your interactions with the public. Although your public action to wear the dress for 30 days almost makes it seem like you married the public for a short time. Don't worry, you can divorce the public in 2 more weeks!!!!!!!!!
What this is bringing up for me, is the conflict between a basically very private interaction and your choice to make it a public one. Every one thinks it is their business. It is also painfully clear by people's reactions to you that how we interact with eachother every day is filled with automatic interactions and reactions that have nothing to do with what is actually staring us in the face. It seems like many people don't want to be confronted with a different meaning than the one they perceive. Too bad for them, but that is what performance art is all about, particularly the kind that surprises people in their own habitat, versus the kind taking place in a theater where, no matter how controversial, the people observing it still chose to be there...."
And here on 4/22:
"I am 56, almost got married (to a guy) somewhere back in the dark ages around 1970 or so. I had the dress (lacy, tightfitting, high neck, big victorian summer hat, and was to carry my bouquet in a closed parasol), and invitations were sent. His Dad had offered to pay 1/2 at our parents first meeting. His Mom thought my Mom's (and my) taste was too expensive. They fought every night on the phone like cats in heat. My Mom finally asked if we could please go get married at city hall and call off the wedding and I said sure. The child groom (we were both getting married to get away from our Moms and were going to live in NYU married grad student housing) locked himself in his computer lab and didn't come out until he thought I was over him. We never saw eachother again. Too bad, it was my only chance to have lived cheaply in the Village. (I grew up and was living in Queens). I just sold the engagement ring, which I had to drag him to buy, with a few other things to help pay my mortgage.
Segue to early '80s, Boston. I came out in a time and place where the word Lesbian was almost always followed by the word Feminist.
Anyway, I got married for the first time 4 years ago to my female partner of 10 years. I decided to have a fairie queene of the woods theme and I wore purple and the bridesmaids all wore white. We all wore wreaths of leaves and tiny flowers. My beloved wore a tux. A damn handsome chap she was, too!
The point? I'm pissed off at myself for not going for the white dress!!!!!!!!!!!!! I too, having trod on all tradition my entire life, am, still, obsessed with THE DRESS! I still look at bridal mags, wedding gowns on the net and in stores, and try to think up a reason to get one. Irina, I'm sooooooooooooo glad you are getting this one out of your system! Would the white dress have changed anything about the wedding and our relationship, both trials and joys? I don't think so.
It's one of those traditional things you do because "it's done that way" and no matter how hard we try to go against that grain, it sticks. Like plaque on teeth and in arteries. And we can't let go. What a waste of time, hunh?
And we have very little control over much in our lives besides the personal, and we fuck that up by dwelling and obsessing on the getting of or the not getting of society's conventions...."
Willow, you are AMAZING. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and stories. Congratulations to you and your partner! Also, if you're really attached to the white dress, it's never too late! I highly recommend the experience... but not for thirty days.
Sunday, April 27
Observe The Bride In Her Natural Habitat
Yesterday was my three-week anniversary, and as a gift to myself, I neglected the blog for a day. Sorry! To make up for it, I have an EPIC photographic experience to share. It was taken by Leslie Sakal on April 18th.
Common (read: silly) wisdom suggests that a good wife knows her way around the kitchen. Oops. I guess my wifely values lie elsewhere. I do, however, make a mean PB+J. (Sidenote to my mother: I spill jelly on the dress. Big surprise.)
(Here's the part where I spill jelly on my dress. My mother is still not surprised.)
Friday, April 25
So Classy!
Leslie Sakal took this incredibly flattering photo of me eating dinner out on The Quad. It was taken on April 8th, when I was a newlywed and the dress was still clean. I don't usually eat with my mouth open, I swear.
***
If you want to read an outline of the ceremony, officiated by the intelligent, honest, challenging, beautiful Dr. Christina Cogdell, click the link below:
Procession
Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Irina to herself in holy matrimony.
Marriage is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, deliberately, and in accordance with the purposes for which she has chosen.
Into this holy estate this woman now comes to be joined to herself. The union of a person to herself - in heart, mind, and body - is intended for her own joy, and for the help and comfort she can provide herself in prosperity and adversity.
If any person can show just cause why she may not enter into this union – let them speak now or forever hold their peace.
-Poem read by Kelsy (I'll post this soon)-
Before you are committed in marriage in my presence and in the presence of these witnesses, I am bound to remind you of the solemn and firm nature of the relationship into which you are about to enter. Marriage, as most of us understand it, is a voluntary commitment that is entered into with the desire, hope and firm intention that it will last for life. This commitment to yourself is therefore the most profound step you will ever take. It requires integrity, introspection, honesty, willingness to change, and perseverance, and it will result in deep knowledge, security, confidence, joy, and peace. I therefore commend you for your vow to be true to yourself. May no one ever interfere or pull you away from your true self.
-I believe this is the point in the ceremony when Christina made a profound and deeply personal but also universal speech about her experiences of marriage. She talked about how she only found the love she was looking for once she had really found herself. I was moved by her words, but even more so by her bravery in sharing her story. I'll be sure to transcribe it when I get the chance to watch the videos.-
Please repeat after me:
I, Irina Zoe Zerkin, take myself,
to have and to hold from this day forward.
for better or worse,
for richer or for poorer,
in sickness and in health,
to love and to cherish all the days of my life.
This is my solemn vow.
Now that Irina has promised to be absolutely true to herself by solemn vow, I pronounce that she IS herself, from this moment forward. Will you who have witnessed her promises do all in your power to uphold her in her marriage vows?
(We Will).
You may now kiss the bride.
I now present to you Ms. Irina Zoe Zerkin.
Recession
Thursday, April 24
My Big Fat Cro-Magnon Wedding
Yesterday, in a class called Evolution and Biodiversity - taught by the amazing Dr. Lenny Gannes, who is such a dedicated science professor that he even manages to make weather patterns interesting - we watched the first half of The Mind's Big Bang from PBS's seven-part Evolution series. This particular episode is about the evolutionary processes by which scientists believe we have developed the impressive minds that distinguish us from all other animal species.
There is one segment that focuses on archeological discoveries of beads from 35 thousand years ago. The narrator (Liam Neeson!) says that these ornamental artifacts are "evidence of our creative and cultural beginnings, recalling a time when bands of humans began interacting socially with one another."
Okay, so how does this have anything to do with my wedding extravaganza? Well, when planning a wedding, people often give careful consideration to traditions. Some traditions maybe only be two or three generations old; if they're religious traditions they might be a couple thousand years old. But the use of beading as a social indicator is a 35,000-year-old tradition. So with that in mind, here's a close-up of my dress and the bottom edge of my veil:
Beads as far as the eye can see. (Click on the image to see a larger version. To see the uncropped photo, taken by Kim Russo, click here.)
Later in the video, Dr. Randall White, from New York University, talks about beads and "expression in materials" as an indication of a major turning point in the evolution of brain function. He says that the earliest beads are signs of people creating more complex social identities than the ones that previously existed in other species. He talks about how these beads say, for instance, "'I am a Cro-Magnon woman, I have given birth, I have a particular history, I have a particular status within my group.' And anyone who's a member of the group will be able to see that at a glance, by the fact that she's wearing certain kinds of animal teeth, certain kinds of beads, her clothing is decorated in certain ways. It's a mode of visual expression but it's expressing social relationships."
Usually when I think about our oldest ancestors, I think about things like making fire and using spears and eating buffalo and living in caves. I think about the filthy hunched guys in cartoons who wear loincloths and hit women with clubs before dragging them home by their hair. (See, women these days really aren't doing too bad overall.) What I have certainly NEVER EVER EVER thought about as a common thread that ties 35,000 years' worth of hominids together is their use of FASHION to express social relationships. So I guess I'm outing myself as a major geek here, but does anyone else get a huge kick out of this?
Wednesday, April 23
In Your Dreams
This morning I went to the Visual Resource Center here on campus, and Deanne Brown, the VRC's curator, was there. Deanne is a kind, sharp, charming, beautiful woman, and though I don't know her well, I thoroughly enjoy talking to her when we both happen to have more than a moment to spare. That being said, I haven't been in the VRC in a good long while, and I'm not sure when I last ran into Deanne. But today I stopped by to use the computer, and there was Deanne, and we exchanged pleasantries, and then she informed me that she dreamt about my dress.
She told me that in her dream last night, she was wearing my dress to her own wedding. And who was she getting married to? Her sister! They were both really excited about it, although they wondered if people would think it was weird and incestuous. Deanne said she wasn't sure what it all meant.
Now I'm no expert at dream interpretations, but I immediately had a theory about this one, which I got Deanne's approval on. I think this dream was simply a heartfelt acknowledgment of her profound love for her sister. Nothing incestuous or "inappropriate" - she just really loves her sister. And I say lucky Deanne, and her sister as well, that their love for one another is potent enough to manifest itself in dreams.
Incidentally, I think that Deanne's dream and my project both raise some of the same questions:
- Why is the love of a marriage considered so much more valuable and celebration-worthy than the love we feel for relatives? Or close friends? Or, Nature forbid, ourselves?
- Why are we taught as little girls that the Happily Ever After is a direct result of marrying our knight in shining armor? Why don't Happily Ever Afters apply to all infinite bonds of love?
- Why do so many of us think that personal fulfillment hinges on finding The Man of My Dreams?
I ask these questions in all sincerity, and I hope that you'll share any possible answers you might have.
***
As it happened, no more than 2 minutes after Deanne and I finished talking about her dream, the ever-impressive Cole Wilson walked into the VRC and informed me that I'd shown up in his dream last night. Apparently he had been trying to convince me that it would be a good idea to let him sew hot pink ruffles onto the back of my dress. It may or may not have been related to the fact that in reality he'd seen me wearing a hot pink sports bra under my dress after I left the gym yesterday. Needless to say, wherever it came from, I'm flattered.
Tuesday, April 22
Thank you, Leslie!
This photo was taken a few days ago by Leslie Sakal. It is an honor and a pleasure to have her working with me on the documentation of this project.
Monday, April 21
WHY?
Lately, when people ask me how the project is going, I reply with some variation of "great, but I'm just about ready to torch this f*!#ing dress." So the obvious follow-up question is, "if it's so awful, why did you decide to do it?" There are two answers, and the first is in that section right under the picture of me that reads:
Dearly Beloved,
You are invited to join me as I spend the next thirty days:
-Making a commitment to love myself,
-Trying to understand my value as a single Jewish woman,
-And exploring the romanticism of weddings... and the burdens that follow.
That pretty much sums up my intentions, and the word "exploring" is key. This answer happens to be the one that most of the art educators and critics I know would want to read. But this project isn't just for art educators and critics, and on my public excursions I've encountered many people who really want to know what events in my life brought this on. Honestly, if you got out a notepad and put me on a leather couch, I could recount my entire childhood and it would probably all seem relevant - I was sort of a tomboy, my parents fought A LOT, I'm attracted to men AND women, and I've never baked an apple pie in my life - but ultimately there is just one single unshakeable moment that got me into this mess.
About a month ago, over spring break, I was watching television with my mother. A commercial for David's Bridal came on, and something inside me said "Oooooh! I want a wedding dress!" And then something else inside me said "Wait! WHY do I want a wedding dress?!"
While most people probably would have just shaken it off, I didn't. I couldn't. This question followed me everywhere I went after that, and it was incredibly disturbing. WHY did I want a wedding dress so badly? And even though I have the dress now, (lucky me,) I still don't have an answer.
But I do have 14 more days to go, right? Who knows what I'll figure out...
Sunday, April 20
Half Way!
Well, as of sundown today, I'm halfway to freedom!
Today I drove up into the mountains for a hike with my amazing roommate, Jonnie. Hiking definitely qualifies as exercise, so I got a few hours of public liberty from the dress, and it was DELICIOUS. Walking around in jeans and a t-shirt gave me some major perspective on just how much this dress owns me right now. It's taken over my life. It feels like most people barely notice me anymore, because all they can see is the dress. Over the last two weeks, I've observed that while some people still ask how I am, most people tend to ask "how's the dress?"
The other thing that really struck me today is just how empowered women should feel at this point in history. We've come a long way! Once upon a time, women used to wear this impractical, uncomfortable, oppressive nonsense EVERY DAY, and it wasn't really by choice. Obviously being female still comes with a specific set of obstacles, but overall, women have made a lot of progress, and are continuing to do so, slowly but surely. We can't demand perfection - there's no such thing. But we can demand improvement, and we do. And although we don't always get said improvement right away, the simple fact that we're even daring to ask is a truly beautiful thing.
Saturday, April 19
Recent complications in my personal life, along with the very distinct hatred I currently feel for the dress, have managed to cloud that confident self-image I had two weeks ago. When the wedding took place, it had an element of public spectacle to it, but it was also a very real and sincere commitment ceremony, and I experienced it with the honest desire to commit to loving myself. I held on to that feeling for a while, but for the moment it's lost. Instead, I feel bogged down by loneliness and self-hatred, and while a lot of it is related to forces beyond me, some of it is actually this dress and the disappointment I witness every time I tell someone I didn't get married to a man.
Every time I'm out in public, I'm reminded about the pedestal that we put marriage on. Yesterday I ran into the grocery store and when I came back out there was a random woman talking to my friends who were waiting in the car. When I got to the car, she said "Oh! I just wanted to wish you congratulations!... And I hope you two are happy together forever!" I replied "Well thanks! I married myself, so I have a feeling we will indeed be together forever." Her face sank and she hesitated. When she finally spoke again, all she could say was "okaaaay." No more "congratulations."
She had initially thought that I was on the path towards fulfilling my ultimate purpose of taking care of a man and bearing his children, and when she learned that there was no man, it was as if I had shattered all of her hopes and dreams for my future, and her future, and the future of Americans everywhere. All of a sudden, I was just another waste of space, another woman without value or meaning.
***
A comment from Jules:
"What you're doing is awesome, I can't thank you enough. My sister just got married and my family is making me feel like crap because I don't have a boyfriend and never had one that lasted more than 3 months, making me feel like a spinster at 21! It's crazy, just because my mother, grandmother, and all my aunts and cousins got married before the age of 22, they think I should be too or else I'm cursed to become a tragic Sex & The City character.
It's just so annoying, I recently completed my first novel and am in the process of publishing it, and my mother doesn't give a damn and worst of all isn't proud of me but instead ashamed of me. My sister on the other hand, when she got engaged, my mother bragged about it to the whole world, and the whole family revolved around that till seventh months and then after the wedding it's still talked about. I just hate it how she and my family views getting married and having babies as a great achievement that would make me worthy, and not completing a novel.
Anyways, thank you, and also you should rent the movie Muriel's Wedding, it's about the same issues of marriage that you're taking a stand against. "
Friday, April 18
Wednesday, April 16
Wedding Wring
A lot of people take note of my hands these days and wonder why I'm not wearing a wedding ring. The answer is that my wedding was very distinctly about valuing myself without having a man around to tell me I'm valuable. As far as Jewish customs go, the wedding ring represents the exact opposite of what I was trying to accomplish.
In the August 1985 issue of the Dance Research Journal, Riv-Ellen Prell (who, among other things, is a professor of Jewish Studies and Women's Studies) wrote an article entitled "Keynote Remarks on Marriage." As she explains it:
Then the most important statement of the wedding is made. Placing the wedding ring on the index finger of the bride, the groom says, "Behold, you are consecrated to me with this ring according to the law of Moses and Israel."
Okay, did everybody catch that? The groom says it. JUST the groom. So historically, the ring specifically symbolizes the woman's obligation to serve and honor the man as deemed proper by Jewish law. The whole custom reeks of ownership and subservience, and according to Prell, it's the most significant part of the whole ceremony.
I think I'll pass.
Tuesday, April 15
Yesterday, shortly after I'd posted an entry redirecting questions of intention to my Mission Statement, I got a comment from Anonymous that read exactly as follows:
I think this whole thing a huge "look at me! look at me!" stunt that comes off more as a desperate need for attention than anything else.
OUCH.
I fumed and panicked and tried to think of some biting comeback. And then several hours later, as I finally drifted off to sleep, I found some clarity:
1. I think it's important to acknowledge that, while I am a woman, which can be a huge set-back, I'm also white and middle-class, and these classifications bring an amount of cultural and academic "privilege" that can't be denied. Some people aren't going to "get it" and it's NOT necessarily because they're lower down on the intellectual food chain - as I see it, it's simply that people from different backgrounds are taught to think in different ways. For all I know, this particular Anonymous is female and white and middle-class as well, but either way, their comment got me thinking about the socio-economic limitations of the art world and I feel that it's an important issue to make note of.
2. Of course there's an element of "look at me!" It's ART! I'm not going to make generalizations about the meaning or purpose of art, because as any contemporary art student knows, it's a set-up for failure. I can say, however, that most art with a visual component is meant to be looked at. If I didn't want attention, I'd be a real fool to wear a wedding dress for 30 days.
3. There is, however, an interesting double standard being raised here. When a man does something that gets him a lot of attention, people say he is confident or they say he's showing off, but they won't really attack his overall character. It's only natural that a man should display his strengths, right? It's like a male peacock showing his grand feathers to prove his fitness and overall worthiness as a mate. But heaven forbid a woman should do something that gets her a lot of attention! That makes her desperate and people call her an attention whore. Not just an attention seeker, but an attention whore. According to The American Heritage Dictionary a whore is defined as:
A prostitute.
A person considered sexually promiscuous.
A person considered as having compromised principles for personal gain.
So when men seek attention they are simply self-assured, but when women seek attention it means they have compromised their principles? And if women shouldn't be seeking attention, what are they supposed to be doing instead? Should my anatomy alone define me as meek and modest? As quiet and scared and submissive? Being a mere woman, should I stop speaking my mind and challenging archaic gender constructs? Should I be learning to cook pot roast and keep my mouth shut instead?
Monday, April 14
To the person who asked for more pictures of me in the dress, they are on their way, slowly but surely. BUT, in the meantime, enjoy all the profound and/or smart and/or funny things I have to say. That's where my value lies... not in how I look in some stupid white dress.
***
Jess Dobkin's work is pure genius.
***
Also, Nikki and David Goldbeck, the masterminds behind Healthy Highways, asked what the wedding menu was. There wasn't a "menu" exactly, but there was champagne from Trader Joe's, provided by the amazingly generous Kim Russo and KC Bitterman. I also bought a massive and delicious apple cake from Whole Foods, and yes, it was vegan. For those of you who ate a piece and thought it was amazing, now you know the truth - vegan food doesn't have to be gross. (Get with the program.)
***
I know some of you are just tuning in to this thing and probably have some questions about what the heck is going on. The answers are here. I suggest taking a moment to catch up.
Sunday, April 13
Congratulations to Me!
On Friday morning I was invited by Dr. Kirk, the President of the College of Santa Fe, to come talk to the college's Board of Trustees about my project. Unbelievable! Now I've been trying to get into a Board of Trustees meeting for nearly as long as I've been at the college - if I had known that all it took was a scrappy wedding dress and a blog, I would have done this project ages ago - so needless to say, I was thrilled Everyone seemed incredibly receptive to the project, and it was especially gratifying to receive enthusiastic and compassionate reactions from all of the (very smartly dressed) women in the room.
***
Today I strolled around the plaza with this guy for an hour and I was shocked by the number of people who wished us congratulations. Yes, I said "us." Now try and picture this - I've got my dress, my veil, my pearls, my lipstick, and this guy walking with me is wearing a gray hoodie and black jeans and really worn out black boots and a black hat, and these big silly aviator-ish shades, and on top of that he has a really young face, so basically he looks like he just skipped out on his high school algebra class or something. What on Earth makes people think that the two of us have just gotten married?! And yet, just the same, people are so blinded by their romanticism that all they notice is a happy bride and the male who surely must be responsible for her happiness. All anyone manages to see is a sweet little woman who has finally found a man to give purpose to her otherwise empty existance.
Ha!
Saturday, April 12
Happy One-Week Anniversary!
Today I was at the DeVargas Mall and a gentle-looking older man playfully stopped to ask, "what, did he not show up?"
I replied, "he who?"
***
My weekend is in full swing, so you'll have to forgive me for the lack of substantial updating, but I promise there will be lots to report in the coming week. In the meantime, I invite you all to meditate with me on the acceptance of muddy hemlines.
Friday, April 11
Let The Sunshine In
I want to share a quote from Marianne Williamson's A Return to Love. I don't know anything about the book or about Williamson, and as far as God is concerned I'm neither here nor there. All I know is that my mother first showed me the quote many years ago, and I hope that I'm stuck with it for life.
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
Thursday, April 10
A Toast
Photo by Matthew Morrow
Usually when we think about gender ideals, we look for the nearest misogynist to write nasty letters to, or we just shake our dainty fists at "the patriarchy." But according to Campbell these impossible standards of femininity are actually enforced by other women more than they are by men:
Research certainly suggests that the current fashion for slimness is not imposed on women by men because men prefer plumper figures than do women (Anderson, Crawford, Nadeau, & Lindberg, 1992; Cohn et al., 1987; Fallon & Rozin, 1985; Furnham & Radley, 1989). Women also care more about other women's opinions of attractiveness than those of men (Graziano, Jensen-Campbell, Shebilske, & Lundgren, 1993), suggesting that within-sex competition can take on a dynamic of its own. Similarly, with regard to sexual conduct and reputation, a recent review concluded that women are stronger enforcers of the double standard than are men (Baumeister & Twenge, 2002), casting doubt on the proposal of internalisation of male values.
With this in mind, it's easy to see why the most satisfying part of this project for me has been the feedback I've gotten so far. So many of my peers have wished me luck and congratulations. I hear the word "inspiring" a lot. Many have said they want to have their own weddings now. The women around me are showing me just how kind, generous, and smart they can be. This project is challenging for me, but also for the people around me, and to see that my peers are rising to the challenge and really thinking about how this project applies to their own everyday lives is more gratifying than anything I possibly could have put on a bridal registry.
Claire, a friend from high school back in New York, posted a message on facebook two days ago saying, "...It is wonderful what u r doing, and i think a lot of women should do the same or something like it, where they tell themselves how wonderful they are. i am a strong believer that every person should tell themselves at least once a day of how life is great. when ur in nyc we should go have lunch one time i would love to be able to catch up and pick ur brain on how to be a strong woman."
And SQD, a complete stranger in Maryland, wrote, "...i think this project is brilliant! i have bookmarked it and will be following along and learning with you. (and showing this to every woman i know)
i have alot of respect for your courage and tenacity...."
Also, in response to my blog entry about being able to dance freely with another woman, my friend Christina (who is from Louisiana and currently dating a woman) wrote, "we can change things by dancing with other women in Texas, and Louisiana and everywhere we want to dance with them. If we don't, we'll just keep telling ourselves how scary it is and how much it'll never be okay. We're the only ones who can make it okay...."
GO GIRLS! Imagine what it would be like if every young woman - black or white, gay or straight, rich or poor, fat or thin, Christian or Pagan - had the chance to stand before her community and sincerely declare "I LOVE MYSELF!" Really, imagine it. I dare you...
Wednesday, April 9
Tuesday, April 8
Dirty Dancing
An interesting thing happened while I was editing these photos. Kim came to the digital photography lab to check in with me, and we discussed the social implications of my project, which I haven't really gotten into beyond what's in my mission statement. I'm still pretty entrenched in the personal events that have taken place since I put on the dress, to the point that it's really hard to even begin thinking about the bigger picture here. As we talked though, she made me realize just how much I take my liberal surroundings for granted, and how very lucky I am.
What does it mean that I shared the first dance with a woman? If I were in Texas, would I have felt comfortable dancing with her? What about if I were in Tunisia? In fact, would I have been able to have this wedding at all? I could be wrong, because I've never been to Tunisia, and I've only been to Texas once. But my guess is the amount of support and love that this project has gotten from my communities in Santa Fe and New York is about equal to the amount of disgust, hatred, and even violence I would face in most places around the world, just for loving myself, and even more for loving other women.
I will never understand how love could be considered a sin. I honestly do understand why some people have sexual comfort zones, and how sometimes it's hard to see beyond them to understand someone else's sexual preferences - that's a process that can take time. But love? How could anyone possibly question the decency of love? Across the globe, love is often the standard by which to measure the value of a person's life - so why is heterosexual love the only kind that counts? Who made up these rules? And how can we change them?
Monday, April 7
On the Up and Up
My mood is still a little strange overall, but the only thing I can really complain about is the fact that the wind kept stealing my veil. Quickly. I can't say for sure, but I'd imagine that I looked like a royal idiot running after that thing in my dress all day.
The dress is really starting to get yucky, but today I managed to eat indian food and soup and a fairly ketchup-y burger without any spillage. For anyone who has seen me consume anything ever, you know how big a deal that is. Go me!
Despite (or perhaps because of) the filth, this outfit is turning out to be a pretty reliable conversation starter. I love it!
This evening my friend Kristen was walking around the quad with some guy I didn't recognize, and as I passed by them he asked me to marry him. Again, this guy was a complete stranger, so I was pretty impressed. I love people who do gutsy stuff like that; whether you're on the giving or receiving end, it's a great reminder that we're all just people and we may as well enjoy it together while we can. And after we were formally introduced he proposed to me again, so I'm supposed to call him this weekend. We'll see.
It's pretty astounding that the last 50-something hours in the dress have basically gotten me as much romantic intrigue as the rest of the entire academic year. Maybe I should always wear a wedding dress.
...
Just kidding.
***
Okay, so I'm finally ready to talk about how undeniably stupendous my wedding was! There's a ton to talk about though, and if I go through it all in one sitting, it'll be so long that nobody will read it besides my mother. So. Here's part one. Where to begin?
After a day full of last-minute madness including picking up the cake and my bouquet, and finding a reading for Kelsy which I'll put in here tomorrow, and setting up chairs, and finalizing plans for the ceremony, and WRITING MY VOWS, I ran home to collect myself at about 5:30. I got on the phone with my mother and we cried for a little bit, and then I jumped in the shower, did my hair and make-up, and got back to the art building (where the madness took place) at about 6:10. I gave my wedding party a quick and not very clear explanation of what to do, and then ran off to hide from arriving guests.
I got dressed in the main classroom in the photo building, which is tucked around the corner from the courtyard where the wedding was. I was incredibly nervous, and I spilled orange juice on my dress (5 minutes before the wedding started!) because I was drinking it straight out of the carton. It tastes better that way, I swear... Okay, it was kind of a dumb idea. Kim kept me company, and answered my phone for me while I was putting myself together. I'll talk more about Kim in a minute; she deserves her own paragraph.
My beloved roommate Jonnie was out in the courtyard taking care of business. She called me on the phone at 6:30 and in a panic I asked if anyone had shown up yet. Silly me. We had set up 36 chairs, and they were all full, and people were sitting around the sides and standing in the back. In total, I'd say 60 guests is a pretty fair estimate. That's HUGE, as far as most College of Santa Fe events go. People love me! (And cake. People also love cake.)
For the procession, Alysha Shaw and Stacey McMullen sang a beautiful song. It was such a gift to have these two beautiful, talented ladies performing at my wedding. I highly recommend that you go check out the all-women's Balkan a cappella group that they're part of, Rusalki. The recordings on the myspace page are worth listening to, however they do not do them justice. For now, seeing them live is the only way to really get it, so if you're in New Mexico keep your eyes open for them. Anyway, I requested that they sing this amazing song called "Hija Mia Mi Querida" or "My Daughter My Dear." As Alysha informed me, the song is in Ladino, which was the language of the Sephardic Jews of Spain. It's nearly identical to Spanish. Alysha was kind enough to send me the words, as well as a translation:
actual text:
hija mia mi querida
aman, aman, aman
no te eches a la mar
que la mar esta enfortuna
mira que te va llevar
que me lleve que me traiga
aman, aman, aman
siete funtas de ondor
que m'engluta pexe preto
para salvar de l'mor
translation:
my daughter, my dear
aman, aman, aman
don't throw yourself into the sea
for the sea is stormy
it is going to carry you away
may it take me, may it pull me down
aman, aman, aman
seven fathoms deep
may a black fish swallow me up
to save me from love
Okay, call me cynical, but I know I'm not the only person who gets a major kick out of that.
Anyway, my wedding party kept growing and changing, but ultimately I ended up with eight beautiful Bridespeople - Anthony, Carina, Emily, Leslie, Mateo, Matty, Nellie, and Sarah, each of whom has been an unspeakably wonderful part of my life here in Santa Fe. Kelsy was my Flower Person. KC was my Best Person, and Jonnie was my Person of Honor. It is an honor to have each of these people in my life, so having them all together at once was nothing short of magnificent.
Okay, here's Kim's paragraph. If there is anyone to blame for my shenanigans besides myself and my close relatives, it's Kim Russo. Kim is my professor and my academic advisor, but more than that, she's been my mentor and my friend. She is forever challenging me be the best version of myself, but she is also always the first one to remind me that I'm only human, which I forget sometimes. More than anything, Kim is constantly reminding me to love myself. So without Kim, this project probably wouldn't be happening right now. With all of this in mind, it's easy to see why I didn't even consider asking anybody but Kim to walk me down the aisle. Luckily she agreed. Kim has been such a gift in my life, partly as an artist, but mostly as a really really decent human being. I am infinitely grateful for her generous and whole-hearted participation in my life... even if it does get me into sticky situations like this thirty-day conjugal freakshow.
Tomorrow: PICTURES!
Sunday, April 6
Good Grief
I wish I could fit this damn dress under my desk so that I could sit and use my computer like a normal human being.
I know I said I was going to update about the specifics of the wedding, but I just can't really go there right now. This morning (afternoon) I woke up feeling like shit, and I thought it was just a mild champagne hangover, but it isn't a headache and it hasn't gone away, and at this point I think it's actually somewhere closer to post-partum depression than anything else.
I'm miserable. It's been a really good day, but somehow I'm miserable anyway.
***
A really beautiful and intelligent acquaintance gave me a card at the wedding, which she told me to save and open later on. I hope she doesn't mind that I'm writing about this. It read:
Dear Irina,
Happy Wedding! I wanted to ask you this in person, but the right time hasn't seemed to come up.
I know you're all married and everything now, but I was wondering if I could take you on a date sometime?
Really unexpected, and equally amazing. I figured that this dress was basically going to be fairly romantically isolating, but it's nice to think I might be wrong.
I called her up after I read the card, and we got together for a couple hours this afternoon to sit in the sun and talk. It was wonderful to get to know her better. The dress, however, was really quite awkward. We sat on the grass and the skirt billowed up and out around me, so even though I was essentially sitting right next to this woman, we were separated by a three-foot barrier of tulle and sequins.
***
I haven't really gotten into how this project came about, but one very big part of it is my relationship with a young man named Adam. Adam and I have known each other for seven years, and although it's been on-and-off, we spent a lot of the last seven years in a romantic relationship. The last year and a half has been particularly tumultuous, because he's back in New York and I spend the academic year in New Mexico. But through all the trials and tribulations, I truly thought we were going to end up together. We casually talked about getting married. The way that fate had kept us in each other's lives, it seemed like ultimately we were meant to be together. I hate the idea of destiny, but that's really what it felt like.
However, for one reason or another, he has recently decided to cut me out of his life. As of three months ago, he's stopped taking or returning my calls. He won't even reply to my e-mails. I know he's alive, although I wasn't sure for a while. I haven't gotten an explanation, and I have no idea what's going on. All I know is that my heart is broken, and that seven years of history warrants an explanation at the very least. At some moments this dress reminds me that I'm free and I'm really okay without him, but the truth is right now it just reminds me that he's not here and there's nothing I can do about it.
***
How do I reconcile my attraction towards this woman and these feeling of heartbreak over Adam? And why are these emotions so overwhelmingly important in my daily existence? What's so bad about being on my own for a while?
***
Okay, did I mention yet that I'm miserable?
The Morning After
Well, I've been wearing the dress for exactly 12 hours now, and already it's seen quite a bit of action, including a house party and an airport. It has some pretty sizable tears in it, as well as an invisible orange juice stain and a cigarette burn. (Don't worry Mom, it wasn't my cigarette.) For now, the damage is novel. 29.5 days from now? At this rate, I'm wondering if the dress will even look like a dress anymore.
Saturday, April 5
I DO!
Well, I'm a married woman now!
I really don't even know where to begin. I'm completely overwhelmed. I feel so incredibly blessed by all the beautiful, strong, kind, generous people in my life.
This glorious event, even with all the complications, was truly perfect. Many people have said to me throughout this process that the universe is clearly aligned in my favor right now, and I can't help but believe it. But I feel that there is another force at work as well. For the last two weeks, this project has filled me with passion, inspiration, dedication, and a whole lot of joy, and I've been doing my best to share these feelings with all of the amazing people around me; I think a lot of the success of this evening was simply a matter of reciprocation. Joy is clearly contagious. There are so many things that could have gone wrong today, and they didn't, simply because there was too much of a positive charge around the whole thing. Of course there are a million lessons to be learned from this process, but the one I'm most connected to at the moment is this:
Our lives are the lives we create for ourselves.
I promise to write more tomorrow. I'm really looking forward to meditating on the occassion and really savoring each memory in my mind... after the dust has settled and I can think straight again. But for now there are more important things to do. And when I say "more important things," I obviously mean "partying."
Friday, April 4
Mission Statement
With less than 48 hours to go before the main event, I figure it's time to get this party started! So, for those of you who've been wondering just what on Earth I'm trying to pull...
Committed! is a massive, decadent multimedia spectacle that combines elements of performance art, theatre, costuming, filmmaking, photography, arts & crafts (in the felt and hot glue sense, not the Gustav Stickley sense,) and painting, although not in the traditional sense. The project is divided into two phases:
Phase 1 – The Wedding
The first phase, The Wedding, will culminate in an actual wedding ceremony on Saturday, April 5th at 6:30 pm. (That's technically tomorrow!) I will be marrying myself. With nature and energy - and valued friends, lovers, and others, - as my witnesses, I will literally be making a commitment to love and cherish myself, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part, et cetera, for as long as I shall live. This process is partly for my own benefit, but it is also a comment on how audacious and challenging it is for a woman to value herself without a man by her side as proof.
Phase 2 – The Honeymoon
Although The Wedding is a more complicated process overall, I expect that The Honeymoon will be harder to execute. It starts at sundown on April 5th, which is why the wedding is at 6:30. The significance of this starting point is that sundown on April 5th is technically the beginning of the first day of Nisan, which is the first month of the Jewish ecclesiastical calendar. Nisan deals with themes of growth and rebirth, because it is the first month of spring; it is also about freedom from bondage because of Passover and the Jewish slaves’ Exodus out of Egypt. The Honeymoon will last for all 30 days of the month of Nisan, during which I’ll be wearing my dress and veil every waking hour of every day.
Besides showering and sleeping, there is one circumstance under which I won’t be wearing the dress: I’ll take it off to exercise. I can’t get the exercise I need while wearing the dress, and if I don’t get that exercise, the dress won’t even fit much longer, which would be a pretty efficient way to ruin the project.
I'm wearing the dress and veil to communicate my jaded opinion of marriage. The dress that I chose is huge and heavy, and it will get in my way every time I try to climb stairs, get in a car, or go to the bathroom. It will get caught on bushes and drag in the dust. I’m sure I’ll spill things on it, particularly when I’m cooking or eating. And it won’t take long before there are big sweat stains under both of the arms. Marriage is a full-time job, and more often than not it’s a great big mess; the dress is my "canvas," on which I intend to manifest that idea.
