I, too, am engaged to be married. Unlike my friend, my big news included the start of wedding plans: designing a dress, invitations, menus, engagement parties and bridal showers. While I’ve probably picked up more copies of brides’ magazines than The Economist lately, I also want to focus on my careen But since I decided to marry at the age of 25, I’ve been made to feel as if a career is no longer a viable option. Once I was viewed as a bright young woman with promise. Now I’m dismissed by acquaintances and strangers as being sentenced to an insignificant life. I am young, but no younger than women who married a generation ago. The distress and hostility I’ve encountered has more to do with changing attitudes toward the role of wife. When everyone is touting “family values,” why does marriage have such a bad rap?
I certainly didn’t plan on an early marriage. I didn’t intend to get married, even I envisioned my future as a broadcast journalist, traveling, meeting international leaders and, more realistically, long days and deadlines-not a husband and kids. Friends predicted I’d be a real-life Murphy Brown: ambitious, self-serving and single.
My quest to become a reporter began at MTV News, where I interned during my last semester at college, and started working as a desk assistant upon graduation. That’s where I met my fiance. Eight years my senior, Wilson has spent most of his adult life abroad and is well versed in everything from Russian literature to motorcycle repair. We found common ground in our career ambitions and agreed to a get-together some night after work to discuss them. Then I avoided him. I convinced myself I was too busy with my senior thesis and job interviews. There was no room for another commitment.
Room was made. By the end of last year, we were in love-and engaged. At work, since we’d kept our relationship under wraps, the news of our engagement came as a shock. Wilson was treated to some pats on the back and a celebratory night on the town. Few congratulations were addressed to me, however. I received comments like “You’re so young!” or “What about your career?” When I left MTV for print journalism, some co-workers assumed I’d quit to plan my wedding. Others made me feel, as a woman, I was ceding my place in the newsroom to Wilson. One suggested that I not mention my pending nuptials to prospective employers. It might suggest lack of motivation for hard work.
My plans also touched off panic among my girlfriends. It’s a return of the domino theory and, to protect themselves, some have chosen not to sympathize with the enemy. I’ve been taunted that my days of “sowing my wild oats” are over and reproached for secretly wanting a baby right away. (There’s even a bet I’ll become pregnant by Jan. $1, 1998.) I’ve been accused of misrepresenting myself during college as someone trying to earn a MRS. degree rather than an education. When “feminist” friends hear that I am taking my husband’s name, they act as if I’m forsaking “our” cause. One Saturday afternoon, a friend phoned and I admitted I was spending the day doing laundry–mine and his. Her voice resonated with such pity that I hung up.
New York City, where we live, breeds much of this antagonism toward marriage. I’ve read that half of Manhattan households consist of single people. Home to the worlds of “Friends” and “Seinfeld,” marriage is sort of an anomaly here. One fifth of women in this town over the age of 45 have never been married. Manhattanites aren’t exactly diving to catch the bouquet.
I’ve also experienced prejudice in my hometown in Colorado. At a local store’s bridal registry, I walked in wearing a Columbia University sweatshirt and the consultant asked if I’d gone to school there. On hearing that I’d graduated 10 months earlier, she explained that she had a daughter my age. “But she is very involved in her career,” she added, presuming that I, selecting a silverware pattern, was not.
Registering at another store brought my mother and me to tears. As I perused the housewares, my mom mistook my interest in cookware to be a sign of impending domesticity and wondered where she’d gone wrong. A former home-ec teacher, my morn always joked that my lowest grade in junior high was earned in her field of expertise. It’s not funny when your career-bent daughter wants a Crockpot.
It’s been difficult for my mom to watch her daughter choose a husband before establishing a career–as she once did. Throughout my education, she has seen the opportunities made available to me, some that weren’t imaginable when she was young. She and my father strove to provide me with the skills to take advantage of these new avenues. In the process, she grew attached to the idea of my becoming a successful professional.
I have no intention of dropping my career goals for marriage. While I’m excited by the prospect of having children, motherhood will not necessarily be the defining feature of my life. And I’ll be no worse a wife for having a career. My engagement has made me no less ambitious, hardworking-or a feminist.
During our conversation, my old roommate described her engagement ring, which sits in her jewelry box because she feels people treat her differently when she wears it. I thought she was being a bit foolish. Now I understand her insecurities. Presented with an array of career options, young women today are pressured to reject “traditional” roles.
Wilson and I are fortunate to have a relationship that allows us to be as committed to our professions as we are to each other. Soon I’ll be his blushing bride. And my rosy complexion will be from exuberance–not embarrassment.
