Soppy Feminist

If my imagination transports me anywhere, it is to world of Elizabeth Bennett, where I sew, gossip, and have romantic conversations to handsome men. I don’t say that those times were anything like that, or even that I aspire to them. Still though…

I count myself as a feminist and would say I’m independent spirited. I subscribed to Spare Rib from the 1980’s until the paper went bust, I read books published by Virago including The Colour Purple, I zig-a-zig-ahh’d with the Spice Girls. I’ve even been known to wear dungarees and flat shoes. It’s just that this week I’ve started to doubt my credentials. First off, I read a blog that was talking about marriage being potentially legalised exploitation. It was from a mostly comedy blog, so I probably took it too seriously, but I did reply in defence of marriage, at least of my own marriage. This is the reply I wrote:

Wow, too deep for me, and I read Spare Rib all through my teens. If my having been married for (deep breath) 21 years has been a kind of prostitution, then having 'sold' myself and 'bought' my husband in turn, I haven't minded. It's prostitution, not rape, every day offers to choice to each of us to stay or go. That's what makes it exciting, and rather beautiful.

Then, today, a young comedian put up a one liner against women changing their name when they get married. I learned my lesson from the Richard Herring call centre controversy , so I didn’t answer that one. Finally, in the park today, I met an old acquaintance. We talked about how our children were growing up and leaving home, and I joked that Nick and I might run away together. This went down to a mixture of surprise and disgust as though we shouldn’t be that into each-other, how dare we be happily married.
I agree with feminist principles, certainly as they apply to the workplace, government and society. It’s just that in my own life, the best and happiest things have been being with Nick and having children together. I like it that we all have the same name. I like it that we are bonded economically as well as emotionally. I like to say that he is mine, my husband, and that I am his, his wife. Here I am with my stitching, nattering and marrying. I am Elizabeth Bennett. I don’t even wish that Nick looks like Colin Firth.