Privilege Shmivilege

Ok, so it's a default position (and the local Jezzies laugh at it) but a big preoccuopation in our "right on" world is the concept of privilege - that automatic comfort of those in whatever prioritised hegemonic construct, whether it be raced, gendered, sexualised, whateved. And that which has registered most profoundly with my self is the category of coupledom. It has always pissed me off that the fact of finding a partner - which is so arbitrary, so accidental, so sliding doorsy - that which has no bearing on individual merit or individual anything - has become, in our contemporary idiom, a marker of merit, of achievement, of ascending to a necessary stage of development. I was a militant single, an "I'm ok, you're ok, if you think I'm not ok then fuck you - it's you who has more than a few screws loose". It's what informed my anti- wedding registries, it's what fuelled my animosity towards every parent of every wonderful but unattached friend of mine who dared make that individual feel less than gurnisct, it's what brought on my allergy to table plans, first dances, bouquet tosses (tossers) ...

And now ... I'm married.

Do I feel like a wanker? Like a hypocrite? Like a traitor to the cause?

I do.

Do I feel, simultaneously, cocooned in the institutionalised safety of Mr Plog's arms, in the knowledge that we have officially declared ourselves a discrete unit, legally sanctioned, apart from all others?

I do.

Fact is, despite it all, the best day of my life TM was probably one of my best. I made every effort in the world not to be the typical bride TM - which in itself resembles the worst form of misogyny to the degree that I tried so fecking hard not to be what I perceived the worst form of woman ever - she who conformed to the notion that the role of weddinged one was the be-all and end-all. And yet - and yet - being surrounded by so many who were truly rooting for me - for my happiness, for my fulfilment, regardless of who was standing by me - or if, indeed, anyone was (seriously - I could have been one of those Oprah-validated fruitcakes marrying myself and I think the same crowd would have assembled, with the same good wishes) meant so much, touched so deeply - and I carry with me that feeling, through sleet and snow and the passage of persistent ebbing.

I am still sixteen. I worry so much about how I come across, about being seen to do the right thing. Full of sound and fury, signifying babkes.

But then Mr P and I press our rings together and in the loosest, laziest Yiddish translation say: "Wonder Twins Powers, Activate". ("Vunder Tzviling Koyakh Far'firn").

And in that moment, everything feels ok.