Who Told You That My Name Was Eve?

In the voice of my maiden self...

I once heard a moderator of a women’s ministry national meeting say that it is the woman’s responsibility to take care of house and home.  Furthermore, it would be wise for us younger women to pay heed.  It was impressed upon us to come into the full realization that even though we’ve made career moves and big strides in the professional world we are still “helpmeets” and it is our utmost duty to make sure our husbands come home to a place of peace, cleanliness, comfort, and a pipin' hot meal.  Honor thy husband.  Ultimately, it is my role to be the “rib,” the support to hubby’s endeavors above my own.  You know, kind of like friendly fascism.  Obey thy husband.  Hmm, interesting idea but it lacks a kind of “je ne sais quoi” in its appeal.  Apparently suppression of self is the most virtuous of godly attributes among wives…far above rubies indeed!  Who knew?   Well, there is nothing inherently wrong with the term helpmeet.  I have no qualms with it.  But what I do furrow my brow at is the assumption by some albeit intelligent women and men that helpmeet is synonymous with "executive assistant to the groom"  and sole arbiter of household and child rearing duties.  Why should I, whether I work outside the home or not, bear the brunt of responsibility where it concerns home grounds?   Why do so if I have a nice burly, wide-backed man at home to help with the labor?  Likewise, why should I sleep to my dreams while helping my spouse wakefully pursue his?  If that is the only barter and trade agreement that men and women can come up with in the negotiation of matrimonial union then I will kindly push my chair away from the negotiation table.  It is not worth the centrally located bald patch of mental duress nor the varicose veined legs.  If some dude presented the “gift” of marriage to me adorned with such an archaic bow I’d jiggle it, give it a peculiar look – raise my eyebrow with a curled lip and put it in the back of my linen closet unwrapped.  Why?  Because being the only person cooking, cleaning, and consistently participating in the lives of our children is tedious work.  It's tedious work for two!  It takes balls or tough titties rather to take on such a load. Salute to my foremothers for their thankless deeds!  But personally I'd like mine to stay soft and plush.  And as far as marital identity goes...leaving behind most of mine and cleaving unto all of his is definitely NOT my idea of Shangri La.  

My Truth…I have a secret desire to go rogue, enlist a sperm donor and call it a day.  Yes, I can have the kid but minus the encroachment of patriarchy.   Yea, I know my logic is faulty but hey right or wrong it is what I'm feeling.  The idea of motherhood is much more appealing – the give and take of this relationship is clearly defined in accordance with the parameters of true need.  But wife...um...I don’t know.  I asked my cousin at a family dinner once, “How do you like being married?”  Her response was unexpected yet refreshingly honest, “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be!”  Now mind you, she has been married for nearly fifteen years but what I know is that her response was a hard won insight - the grease and grit of infidelity is hard to scrub off but as a ministers wife it is still your duty to continue to scrub.  Her arms tired ten years ago but she still has her brillo pad in tow.  Shoot, she still types into the wee hours of the morning preparing HIS sermon notes.  So again I ask why?  Her response surely didn’t make me want to “skip to my lou” down the aisle!  Also, her response took me aback a bit because it was candid and not characteristic of the culture of silence surrounding the lack of sustenance in the institution of marriage especially in the culture of church.  Some women just don’t get their daily spiritual, intellectual, sexual, and emotional bread.  Where is the due benevolence in that?  Where is my helpmeet?  I was not put upon this earth to simply be some gangly-brained boy’s life secretary.  I want a mentally robust, spiritually strapping man - an adept, a man who tangibly applies the knowledge that to assign a woman as your literal “side piece” is essentially sacrilege.  God did not put me here to simply further SOME MAN’S aspirations and agendas.  God put me here with MY OWN.  We are heads too!  And it is not my DUTY to buff and wax my future husband’s.  So until I find the man ordained by Spirit to be my balance, exuding power sufficient unto mine, I’ll be staying away from church endorsed finishing school lessons.  I need no finishing.  I’m already finished...fearfully and wonderfully so!

"The way you get people to testify against themselves is not to have police tactics and oppressive techniques. What you do is build it in so people learn to distrust everything in themselves that has not been sanctioned, to reject what is most creative in themselves to begin with, so you don't even need to stamp it out...It wasn't even black men; it was black women testifying against ourselves.  This turning away from the erotic on the part of some of our best minds, our most creative and analytic women, is disturbing and destructive.  Because we cannot fight old power in old power terms only.  The only way we can do it is by creating another whole structure that touches every aspect of our existence, at the same time as we are resisting."
~Audre Lorde