Orange Blossoms

Last night my boyfriend and I had a long (and perhaps boring for him) conversation about social norms within marriage. He has lived in Colorado since he was six and has a bit of a different perspective of marriage than I. Growing up a southern woman means that it has been ground into my head from an early age that I am meant to marry, have kids, keep house and love God.

I want none of this.

None.

First, I lack the internal, and supposedly 'natural', urge to bare children.  I have no intention of having children. In fact, I am currently looking into permanent birth control. (Which is a story for another day)  Second, my apartment is usually in a disaster state. Sure, dishes get washed (in the dishwasher), laundry eventually gets laundered and I make sure the bathroom is acceptable for guests but, if I could pay someone to come in weekly and mop the floors and dust the furniture, I would. In a heartbeat. I can't imagine having to be a 'housewife'. And don't get me wrong; I know many great women who have run a household, raised children, and somehow manage to make it all seem easy while completely loving their life. I'm in awe. Really. But, just as they chose their life of homemaking I wish to choose my life of...not.

And, do I really need to explain the 'god' part of my prescribed childhood? I'm an atheist. Any deities have no place in my life.

Marriage is a tricky thing. Part of me wants to have a partner. Someone with whom I can share problems, experiences, sorrows and joys. Doesn't it sound nice to be able to have someone at your side when things go wrong?  That was how I was taught to view marriage. Of course being a good southern woman meant that I would also be the 'help-mate' of my husband. I would be the woman at his side who would give advise but not really make decisions. I may decide which room to clean or what to make for dinner, sure. Women in a southern household, especially a religious one, are not meant to be the head of the household. We are raised not to be the head.

I always knew that I could end up being 'put in my place' by a husband. When the elders in my church noticed that I wasn't going along, as the other children were, with the Sunday School lessons I was placed on 'the list'. I had never heard of it before. I was only made aware of 'the list' after one of the elders' son informed me that I had been on it for sometime. You see, my parents had divorced when I was four. My mother moved herself, my two sisters and I to Kentucky to live with my grandparents while she went back to  college to earn her bachelor's degree. (I'm still so proud of her for that) My sisters and I were immediately viewed as 'broken children from a broken home'. It sounds harsh, but, many people who are a bit older and from a divorced family understand the social stigma of the situation. (Especially in church)

Once we moved to Florida I felt more of an outcast in the church. People in our new 'church family' knew us less and seemed to judge us more.  The elders were all old, stuffy, white, Republicans who sat in the front pew on Sunday mornings and seemed to almost watch the preacher as if waiting for him to say exactly what they had told him to say. They were always meeting in secret rooms, talking with only themselves, and looking at those who stepped out of line with contempt. What was weirder were the deacons. This was a group of slightly younger, stuffy, white , Republicans who sat directly behind the elders during sermons. They were 'elders in training'. I'm still not sure to this day what the main difference of these two groups of men were and what their overall function to the church consisted of. All I knew was that I made sure to not go near these men. Yet...

I may be over exaggerating this next part but I don't feel I'm off by much. There was the elders' son, let's call him Jack, who took an immediate liking to me. I pretended for the longest time that I had no clue of his affections. But, to my exasperation, he followed me around and  made it clear to everyone our age that I was going to be his. No one talked to me without his knowing of it. I never did anything in that church without his knowledge. No other guy in my church ever attempted to ask me out or flirt with me. Until one day that our small church combined with another small church. 'Adam' was a year older than me and seemed interested in asking me out in the 7th grade. He walked with me around the church playground and flirted with me. He tried to hold my hand... All hell broke loose. Jack came out of nowhere with a spiky branch of a palmetto bush. It took me 30 minutes to talk him into putting the damn thing down. I look back on it now and think of how crazy it was but, back then, it was Jack being Jack. After that, no one even came close to me. I could not have dated within our church even if I had wanted to. At least, I couldn't have dated anyone else but Jack.

The weirdest thing was that my church thought that me being with Jack was the best thing for me. He would be my salvation. He, the elder's son, would set me straight. If I was ever sitting alone in a pew people would ask me, "Where is Jack?" His own mother would ask me first about what Jack was doing, or where he was before she would call his cell. If I went anywhere it was to be assumed that Jack would be with me. We once took a church trip to Tennessee and it was understood that Jack was my chaperon and he stayed with me the entire time. I didn't really fight it. At first. Once I got to high school and began dating boys from my public school the church noticed. They would ask me why I wasn't dating a 'nice guy' like Jack. They would tell me how good he was for me. I was once told that God would want me to be with Jack. He was 'God's choice for me'. I was livid.

Jack, oddly enough, became a good friend of mine when I started college. He eventually moved on from me and dated other girls. We became better friends the more we BOTH moved away from religion. (LOL) We actually did date for about a month. It wasn't meant to be. We both knew it. I've since lost contact with him. I have a feeling that if we somehow reconnected we would act like old friends; as if nothing bad had happened before and no time had passed.

But, what did this experience teach me about what I should expect or look for in marriage? My current job, working for a vocational rehabilitation counselor as a research assistant, has taught me that 'marriage' is a fragile and, sometimes, disregarded thing.

We had a case recently where a young woman who, after giving birth, went into septic shock and renal failure. She woke up a few weeks later a quadruple amputee. I can't even imagine... Two years later, she is getting a divorce from her husband who 'can't handle the stress of her disability anymore'. Now, I've never been a part of something so tragic nor do I know what they are going through as a couple or individually but, this right here? This. This is what scares the living shit out of me as a woman. As a southern woman who was taught to be the silent partner in a marriage this petrifies me beyond belief.

If I were to marry am I supposed to be the woman that quits work and keeps house? Surely not. I've studied the changing social norm of today's generation and economic needs. There is no way that I could stay home unless I marry a very wealthy man. But, does that now mean that, as the woman, I must now work full time then come home to keep house and potentially raise the children as well? It happens all the damn time. Many southern women get married but still have to work full time and keep up with the usual expectations of a 'good southern wife'. It's not just a southern thing. Many cultures around the world keep this ideology. But, I can only write about the culture with which I have experience.

Another thing I've been having a problem with is the fact that so many people stand up and swear to their personal deity that they will stay faithful and true to their new spouse. They swear to keep by them in sickness and in health, richer or poorer yada, yada, yada... But, when things actually do get sicker or poorer one of them bolts. If half of all marriages in the U.S. don't make it and nearly 85% of Americans are religious than that must mean that there are a lot of people out there who are swearing, to the one thing that should matter most to them, that they will do this specific task of marriage for the rest of their life...and they are breaking their word.

If Christians can't keep a promise of marriage to their own maker, the ruler of their universe, the master of their lives and afterlife...then what hope do I have, as an atheist, of finding someone who will make that promise to me?