Do we marry a person or marry a wife or husband?
We were a new family, my mother, stepfather, two step-sisters, my sister and me. I was 16 years old when my mother and stepfather had a bitter argument – a natural part of adapting to a new relationship. My mother in utter misery, took to her bed weeping and distraught and stayed there all day. I was a wiser child then than I am now as an adult.
‘Get up and carry on.’ I told her. She did. Later she came back smiling.
‘Jack says that he didn’t marry a wife. He married me, Pixie, the person that I am.’
I haven’t always found it easy to pick myself up and get on with life. My mother was brave but I never forgot Jack’s statement. My own father was Edwardian about family roles. I was first a daughter who had to be good. He was first a father and husband who was right, had authority, and deserved respect. He did his best and still got things wrong. I ended up with a mother, a father, a stepmother, a step-father and also with a mother and father-in-law. Every one of those people saw me and judged me differently and at various times I pleased none of them. They all chose different names for me to call them and I complied of course out of love and respect. Family roles are mutual. They aren’t always reciprocated but like marriage, it takes one person to break a relationship and two to make it.
The 1970s Women’s Movement
Years later roles, marriage, gender and sex were subjects that were debated in the second wave Women’s Movement and it reinforced for me what my stepfather had said. As a parent and as a wife, I always gave my husband both a name and a role. He was a father and a person – ‘your Dad, Mike’ was what I said to my kids. I was proud to be a mother and a wife but no woman is just those. I was not ‘her indoors, ‘wifey’, ‘the little woman’ or ‘old girl’. I think I’m right that in Gene Stratton Porter’s Girl of the Limberlost a character in the book chooses not to be described as a ‘lady’ but as a ‘woman’ because ladies sat and women worked?
The significance of names and naming
Names are of great importance as every child knows. They define us for our peers. We all know the damage that a cruel nickname can cause. Our parents choose our names and their meanings with care because they connect us to family history and point us to our futures. Some of us change our names – I like mine. Neither am I keen on taking on a husband’s surname. It was forced on me by law in Britain though not in France. All names, however, still come down the patriarchal line. I chose to be Ms and not Miss or Mrs or missus and now in France, all women are titled Madame, not Mademoiselle. I confess that I compromised when I had my first painting exhibition in Zambia. Everyone knew me by my married name so there was no point in using my preferred maiden name and isn’t ‘maiden‘ is a loaded word in that context anyway?
New names for countries, cities and places
I have lived through times when countries, cities and roads have taken on new names – perhaps original ones – maybe reinvented ones. The road in Lusaka that my uncle lived on has changed several times – it was once Sadaam Hussein Boulevard. Some names are very long – addressing a letter to a person who lives on a street with a name longer than the envelope is problematic. Unwritten languages have been written, first by colonialists, and then reclaimed and rewritten by the people who spoke and shaped the languages.
Honorifics and titles
Language, titles and names matter. In the art gallery in Zambia, we used first names as a way of making a statement about equality. I refused to be addressed by the colonial ‘Madam’. My Zambian friend and gallery partner told me that it was traditional in families to give an honorific to your marriage partner so I did wonder about the use of western forms of address on people who might have made different cultural decisions. First names are, however, an accepted form of address in the international art world.
I became a grandmother at 47 years of age.
I was proud to be one but I didn’t feel granny-ish then. Let’s face it – the term – the moniker ‘granny’ can have derogatory and demeaning associations. My grandmother was known as Granny Emma but time has changed how a ‘granny’ is portrayed and they are often disregarded or considered a nuisance. I was a grandmother who didn’t feel quite up to Grand and Matriarchal. I didn’t fancy being called Nana either though many people love it because for me, it’s the name of Wendy Darling’s family dog so I told my daughter the decision was for her and her son to make. My grandson was two-thirds Zimbabwean and one-third South African so I suggested my mother’s choice of Mbuya – meaning elder or grandmother – used by the children of her community or Ouma from South Africa. I like the French word Mamie too. In the end, I was called Ruth by a child who only ever heard me referred to by that name. Thirty years later I’m both Grandma Ruth and a person called Ruth.
No Violet Bulawayo
I took the title of this post from We Need New Names a novel by NoViolet Bulawayo that I enjoyed. Many writers have also used it. Bulawayo’s novel is told by a child from a shantytown inhabited by Robert Mugabe’s dispossessed opposition. The protagonist then becomes an illegal immigrant in the US. It’s a fascinating contrast.