I’ve been thinking about why I started this blog. Then I remember the frustration I felt growing up. I wanted to see what others did in the same situation, but I never saw it. The closest I got was Bhaji on the Beach, Anita and Me, and later Bend It Like Beckham. I wanted more — I still do.
Marriage was a really confusing time. I wanted to do my best, but I just wasn’t prepared.
An example: once I got married, any plans for the weekend had to be agreed with my MIL’s plans. She wasn’t content with just filling up our evenings with dinners — she wanted our days too. My husband and I had arranged to go shopping one weekend. She told us: well, no. Her plans for her son were to take her to find a nest of tables, do supermarket shopping, and fix or carry something.
It was relentless. I was confused — I had moved out of my house into married life, and I was spending less time actually doing things with my husband than before we got married.
She was competing with me for his time — and winning every time. He acted like he had no option. That it was just a phase. She really had her heart set on a nest of tables that weekend. MFI was doing a deal.
Once, I tried to put my foot down and told her we had plans. She started to cry. Needless to say, my husband did what she wanted that weekend.
To appear reasonable, she told me that I should tell her about all of my plans. I told her I would tell my husband — it was up to him to share them with her. I had not moved out of my parents’ home to come under her parenting umbrella. She saw this as disrespect and dug her heels in harder.
She wanted to know where I was and what I was doing all the time. I resisted as much as I could. But my husband would divulge every detail of my plans — aspects I wouldn’t even have to tell my own parents. Any plans I had had to be changed if she decided I needed to make an appearance.
Somehow, I was now responsible not only for my behaviour but for my husband’s too. If he decided that we didn’t need to go somewhere — it was my influence. Casting a spell on him with my magic vagina.
There were so many mixed-up messages. It was frowned upon for me to visit my own family, and taking my husband with me was seen as me controlling his time.
The messaging was clear: I needed to cut the cord with my family — and tie it around my neck.
His family were considered well-educated, and mine more simple, rural people. Yet their ideas for their daughter-in-law were outdated and very much tied up with pride.
I was the first of my friends to get married, and I didn’t know where I could go to discuss this discomfort. When I went to my mum and my sisters, they would tell me I needed to make some adjustments. I just needed to get used to it. When I talked to my friends, there was a lot of “well, ummm, what did you expect? And at least you’re married — you should see what they’ve had to date.”
Talking to work people was pointless — they were white. I would end up explaining the intricacy of the relationship, and more time would be spent there than on the actual issue.
How was everyone else just getting on with it? Was it me? Was it easier to just submit? Would I survive? I was already drowning and i was 6 weeks in.
I wanted a place where I could bitch and moan to like-minded people — so I created one… 20 years later!
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