Keeping Up with the Ms Joneses

In our society, if you are a single woman, you are one of the two Jones—Bridget or Samantha. Hey, what about ‘none of the above’?

Let’s begin today’s article with a one-act play, shall we ?

Save the Spinster!!!

 List of Characters

R1 – Condescending, smarter-than-thou older cousin brother
R2 – Curious, worried-about-his-own-marriage younger cousin brother
R3 – Caring, recently-married same-age cousin brother
S  – The society-challenging happily-single (by choice) spinster

Act I
Scene I: 2009

R1: I, on behalf of the entire family, want to know–Why the hell are you not getting married?

S: And I, on behalf of the entire family, want to know–Why the hell are you not producing children?

R1: (bellowing like a boisterous bovine) THAT’S MY…PERSONAL…LIFE!!!

S: Yes! And I am public property!

Scene II: 2011

R2: Didi, why aren’t you getting married?

S: (in emotionless tone) What can I do? Lesbian marriages are still not legal!

R2: Ummm…ummm…(followed by a loooooooooong silence)

Grandmother (in the background): What is she saying?

S laughs inwardly, thinking  ‘Good luck explaining THAT to her!’

 Scene III: 2014

R3: You know I really worry about you.

S: (perplexed) Why?

R3: I just don’t want to see you end up like Bridget Jones!

S cringes inwardly, thinking  ‘If I have to be a Jones, I’d much rather be Samantha.’

If you’re wondering why I decided to start the present article with a one-act play, let me take you straight to Greece—metaphorically speaking, of course. I certainly do not have the money to fund a round trip to Greece for all of us (although I wish I did). Anyway, as you’d have deduced by now, one-act plays originated in ancient Greece (as evidence suggests—I, of course, have no personal mode of time travel to go and check the veracity of that assertion).

Although, that’s not why I was planning to hold your hand as we walked down the Pythian road—en route to Delphi, the revered site or the resting place of the Omphalos stone, which in ancient Greece was believed to be the centre of the Earth and the Universe. (If you are an ardent gamer (like me), you have already heard of this stone while playing the popular game franchise, God of War).

For the non-gamers out there, the Omphalos stone is identified as the stone that the Titan Rhea wrapped in swaddling clothes, which was then swallowed by the Titan Cronus, who thought the stone was his son, Baby Zeus.(If you’re wondering why Cronus was dining on his own children, it’s because the Oracle had predicted that he would be overthrown by his own child—hence the distinctly un-fatherly behaviour. By the way, Zeus not only survived, he later became the king of the Gods and ruled from his seat at Mount Olympus.) Of course, since this is not a lesson in Greek mythology, let’s move on.

But why should we care about the Omphalos stone? If you just look at the image  below of the stone (kept on display in the Delphi museum)  you’ll see a diabolical similarity between the Greek stone and one of the most important stone icons in Hinduism.

Moving on, the word Omphalos, in Greek, means ‘navel’. The navel, as we all know is the visible remnant of the umbilical cord.

Hence, in mythological iconography, the Omphalos stone represents the uterus or the womb—where life originates (and just to recap—the centre of the Earth and the Universe, which is why this particular stone icon is a common recurrence in most ancient religions).

Of course, this mythical reverence for the womb is not just the stuff of mythologies or religious iconography. It has spanned generations, laying the groundwork for the present article.

With that thought in place, let’s move away from ancient Greece to the modern world of cyberspace.

I recently came across a fabulous tweet by actor, writer, producer Sarah Silverman, who tweeted: “When a woman doesn’t wanna get married she’s a weirdo, when a man doesn’t wanna get married he’s George Clooney.” In my opinion, she hit a home run with that one!

A single woman, in our society, is a social, cultural and biological anomaly—a creature who MUST either be a devilish temptress (the sexy siren luring her innocent victims) or the crazy cat lady (filling the void in her childless existence with furry felines).

Such women (minus husbands, that is) are typecast to fit two very specific moulds—the fugly female who cannot find herself a husband (Archetype 1) or the wanton whore who is not satisfied with a single man (Archetype 2). (Do not mind the conscious use of the word ‘whore,’ I am simply borrowing the term from the Madonna complex.)

Even if you don’t fit either of the archetypes (maybe because (a) you are a man, or (b) you are a happily/ miserably married woman, or (c) you are a gorgeous single-by-choice ‘sexually stable’ woman), I implore you to still read on—so everyone can live happily ever after and at least pretend to respect each other’s choices.

So, where were we? Oh right, we were back from our myth-trip to Greece, and were discussing the two particular feminine archetypes.

Allow me to introduce to you the two Miss Jones, who’ll accompany us as we debunk some popular perceptions—Ms Bridget and Ms Samantha Jones. Except for the surnames, they don’t have much in common.

Bridget Jones (from the wildly successful Helen Fielding novels and the films starring Renee Zellweger, just in case you aren’t that much into pop culture) is our Archetype 1. She’s miserably single (ergo, not by choice). She smokes like a chimney and drinks like a fish.She has been on a perpetual diet (without losing any of her “wobbly bits” —her words, not mine). And she suffers from verbal incontinence (I guess that gives her a ‘medical’ excuse). And as depicted in the popular franchise—a “loser”!

Samantha Jones, Archetype 2 (from the wildly successful US TV series Sex and the City and the films), on the other hand, is single (by choice). She runs a successful PR business.

She was initially in her 40s, but is fifty-and-fabulous now. She lives her life on her terms and doesn’t make any apologies for her hedonistic lifestyle. And she’s a self-proclaimed trisexual (She’ll try anything once).

This typecasting is one that a single woman faces on a day-to-day basis. That is the reality. When society encounters the Bridgets of the world, it takes pleasure at her pain (The actual term for this is Schadenfreude, a German loan-word in English)!

The sad part is that you’ll often find family/friends (and sometimes complete strangers) offering either ‘supposed’ solace or cracking jokes on and about the ‘poor’ single girl. And their words carry more toxicity than a venomous beesting.

Of course, things aren’t exactly easy for the ‘supposed’ Samanthas of the world (that is, she may not be a Samantha in real life, but is perceived as one).

Society believes that the scarlet Samantha is only looking for a ‘Billy with a willy’! Men, of all shapes and sizes (pardon the pun), hit on her—perpetually! And married women turn into protective bulldogs at the mere sight of her. Sigh!

Evidently, it’s quite difficult to be a single woman amongst a procreatively-preoccupied patriarchal population—yet some women manage to do it with panache.

But it does make one wonder, where does all “this” (I want to use a more colourful word but I’ll settle for “this”—a rather apt four-letter word) emanate from?

The answer lies in the distinction between two commonly-used terms—‘sex’ and ‘gender.’ Although often used interchangeably, they are, however, different concepts. While sex is a biological construct, gender is completely cultural.

In other words, I am simply not born a woman; I am expected to become one! And how do I become one? Simple! By marrying and procreating! My uterus is my destiny—my one-way ticket to ‘womanhood’!

In other words, if I am not a wife and a mother (AND they are not mutually exclusive, mind you), I am not a ‘complete’ woman, yadda yadda yadda!

Changing cultural norms is not easy, and that’s certainly not the purpose or the premise of the present article (After all, we certainly need procreation for the propagation of the species). It is simply an endeavour to convey a simple truth—that there are all kinds of women in this world.

Those who like to get married and have children, and enjoy the safety, security and sanctity of family life.

Then there are those who choose one or the other—some get married and choose to remain childless and some who procreate outside the social bonds of marriage.

There are also those who get married to their jobs.

And finally, there is that mythical creature who consciously chooses a life of celibacy—taking the unbridled passion out-of-the-flesh and channeling it towards a higher purpose (such women are celebrated for centuries—for example, the blessed Mother Teresa who was fast-tracked to beatification by the Pope in 2003).

(Personal note: Of course, it’s not just revered saints—and celibates—who leave a footprint in history; “sinners” too have just as good a chance to accomplish something worthwhile.)

If the single women out there still find it difficult to bear the societal scars, I’d like to leave you with another Greek anecdote. Even in male-dominated ancient Greece, the voice that yielded the most influence was the voice of a woman—the Oracle.

We just need to find our voice—use our voice—and soon, a lot of voices will ring out, from every nook and corner of this Earth (and mind you, together, the voices will be a formidable force).

And one day, all women will sing, in unison:

Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!