“All the lovers I know who are not loved back, are women who have tried to write their own story.” – Warsan Shire
Dear Fellow Warrior,
The other night, I had a dream that I was getting married…
It was the first time in my life, from what I remember, ever having a dream about my own wedding… looking into a mirror and seeing myself dressed in red… the color we wear on our wedding day.
It was so unbelievably strange. Everything about it. I had no henna on my hands… no makeup… no one was doing my hair. And I kept telling everyone, “It is starting soon…we need to get to the hotel…” They were all ready… but I wasn’t. And no one was helping me.
People were telling me to do it myself… the henna, the makeup, the hair… all of it… the same day. I didn’t even know who the groom was. We never met.
And somehow, just before the wedding was about to begin, the groom turned out to be some very tall, famous activist from India… giving a speech in front of a huge crowd, taking questions from the crowd. So weird.
I was watching him on TV… while waiting for someone to take me to the venue, where we were supposed to get married. For some reason, my mom was driving the massive limo herself… and when I finally arrived… no one was there. It was so weird.
I have been trying to understand why I had this dream. Maybe I shouldn’t expect anyone to show up at my wedding… when only three people came to my “PhD Wedding”… which to me, was more important…my real “wedding,” in so many ways… something that meant far more to me. And of course, that absence was the fault of the vulnerable one… the one with limited resources who was already struggling.
Or maybe it is because I’ve been feeling that very real “unmarried woman” stigma in our culture… more than ever lately… now that I’m in my 40s.
Or maybe it is because I’m feeling something I’ve been protecting myself from for years.
That feeling of “regret”… of “missing the last bus.”
Especially when I see videos or pictures of babies and dream of my own little Elsa, who could possibly fight in the inevitable Political Revolution.
I had a daydream about it the other night…my wedding… just before falling asleep… and I let myself cry. A hard… much-needed… release.
Because this is what society wants us to feel, right? Unmarried women in their 40s… especially in South Asian Muslim cultures…
We are expected to carry that burden of regret in our souls.… because somehow to some people, not getting married is still a sign of “Divine disapproval”…
Regret for choosing an unconventional path… or falling into one without intention. Regret for being bold… for speaking up… for being authentic and different. And then… we are chastised for it… in both subtle and blatant ways.
Especially for naming what we are experiencing…the misogyny, the sexism…the stigma… for challenging it all… for surviving it.
The worst of it often comes from other women.
The most painful… from family… and extended family.
And yet, as easy as it is to fall into that state, I cannot surrender to regret. I do not regret my choices, even when I didn’t have choices. I trust in God’s will. And, I only regret the cruelty of a world that made me feel I should.
And I will not be ashamed to name these social stigmas… to expose the harm. Because ultimately, this doesn’t just hurt me and other older single women. It hurts all women.
“I will not have my life narrowed down. I will not bow down to somebody else’s whim or to someone else’s ignorance.” – Bell Hooks
In Solidarity and Peace, Warmth, and Blessings,
Dr. Elsa, Warrior KQueen
“She wasn’t looking for a Knight. She was looking for a Sword.” – Atticus
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