There are always so many things to talk about. Some topics I consider to be critically important and significant, and yet somehow I forget to talk about them. This will be one of those topics.
In our heteronormative world, when I talk to people about my partner in life, I refer to her as “my wife.” Those two words come preloaded with a plethora of meanings and ideas, most of which I do not intend. Today, I will talk about the first word, and why it is so problematic, especially for me.
The word “my” is an English word that is frequently used to elicit an understanding of ownership, possession, and even dominance. For something (or someone) to be “mine,” I am expected to have some sort of control over it. Unfortunately for me, this is the furthest thing from my intent. This fact is an issue with me that I struggle with, as I instinctively drop the word “my” frequently for many purposes. I will share with you why I have so much trouble with this word.
Let us first consider possession. To possess something means that I have some sort of control over that something. For example, at this moment, I possess this keyboard, in that I control it’s position in space and time. I grasp the keyboard and can move it around. And at this moment, I have placed it upon my lap in order to press on the keys, which is how I am typing this post. I possess this keyboard. It is my keyboard in this sense.
Possession, it seems to me, is a state, like being happy or angry. The keyboard is in the state of being possessed by me. This suggests that it can very easily cease to be possessed as well. If I place it on the table in front of me, and I walk away, I no longer possess the keyboard. The keyboard is no longer in my control. I can return, grasp the keyboard, and again I will possess it. But while I leave it unattended on the table, I do no possess it. It could certainly be argued that I still possess the keyboard, as it would be very difficult for others to come to possess it while it remains inside “my” home. Thus, in some sense, I still have some control over the keyboard, and so perhaps I still possess it even when it is unattended.
However, when the keyboard is unattended on the table, the idea (I think) most have regarding the keyboard’s state is not possession, but something else that is related: ownership. I own the keyboard, even when it is unattended. In this way, they keyboard is “mine” once again. Ownership, unlike possession, is much more difficult to clarify. With possession, an object (or person) can easily be taken away from me, such that I will no longer possess it. Someone could come into the room presently and take the keyboard off my lap and hold it outside my reach. In that case, I no longer possess that keyboard. But I may still own the keyboard.
Ownership, it seems to me, is more of an agreement than a state of affairs. An agreement between myself and others. To say that I own the keyboard, it is not necessarily I who makes the claim, but others. If those around me agree that the keyboard belongs to me, then I own the keyboard. However, if those around me decide that the keyboard does not belong to me, they will not agree with me that I own the keyboard. In fact, if others decide that the keyboard does not belong to me, they are likely to decide to take the keyboard away from me entirely. I would no longer possess nor own the keyboard in that situation.
Then there is dominance. Dominance, as I see it, is the idea of enforcement. To dominate an object is to force upon that object my possession, and possibly my ownership, over it. If I grasp the keyboard tightly and try to prevent others from taking it away from me, I am expressing a dominance over the keyboard. Whether I am successful with my dominance or not will be revealed with time, whether I continue to possess the keyboard or not. Dominance can lead to or strengthen ownership and possession. I can take actions that ensure that the object in question will remain under my control, despite the attempts of others to remove the object from my possession. This is, in some sense, where the idea that “ownership is nine tenths of the law” comes from. If I practice dominance over an object, and others are unable (or unwilling) to contradict my dominance over the object, then its remaining in my possession is a sort of acknowledgement of ownership. That is, others are forced to agree (on some level) that the object belongs to me, as they are unable to remove it from my possession.
All this talk sounds pretty elementary when applied to objects, but the ideas become much more pronounced when applied to conscious entities, especially people. I have a pet rabbit. I am considered the owner of the rabbit, in that I have some sort of control over it. If the rabbit does something inappropriate, I am the one held responsible for his actions. It would make no sense to hold me responsible for the actions of the rabbit, unless I had some sort of control over the rabbit. However, in order for me to convince the rabbit to submit to my desires, I would need to express a dominance over the rabbit. My dominance may take on any number of forms, so long as the end result is that the rabbit does as I desire it to do.
This way of seeing the relationship applies just as well with people. I can own a person, so long as those around me agree that I am the owner of the person. Furthermore, I am going to have to express some sort of dominance over the person in order to convince them to submit to my desires. I have to have some control over them, in order to be considered the owner of them. This, if it is not obvious, is a description of slavery. While I would like to think that we have, in our modern times, abolished slavery, I know through observation that this is most certainly not the case.
I have a partner in this world. Another person whom I hold dear. Another person whose projects I value and attempt to assist in finding successful completion of. This other person is one of the people in this world that I consider to be a full conscious entity, full of freedom just as I also possess. While at times I know that I could dominate her and try to control her, I spend the better part of my time trying very hard not to control her in any way. I admit I have varying degrees of success with this, but I do try. Part of the challenges I encounter in my attempts come from those around me in society. You see, as part of our relationship, we decided to marry.
I would argue that even were we not to marry, those around us would still consider our relationship in the same way as I am about to describe. However, in that we are married, I suggest that it reinforces the perceived nature of our relationship. In a heteronormative relationship, where a man is with a woman, it is considered to be the case that the man (in some way) owns the woman. As ownership is decided upon not by the owner or the thing owned, but by those around the owner, it is decided by society that I own my wife, in some way. Try as I might, it is not entirely up to me whether I have control over her. I can choose not to express a dominance, I can choose not to force her to submit to my desires; however, as I support her freedom and her projects, I sometimes end up supporting her submission to me regardless. It is a very complicated scenario, having been developed and reinforced for centuries through various traditions that came about long before I was ever conceived. The term often given to this complicated system of traditions and rules is patriarchy.
This all brings us back to the term “my.” To call her “my” wife is to, in some way, acknowledge that I have some level of dominance over her. In fact, my use of “my” is probably an expression of dominance itself. As much as I would prefer to believe that I only call her “my” wife to distinguish her from the other women out there who are committed to other heteronormative relationships with men, the truth is that those words are still conveying an idea, whether I like it or not. In truth, my only recourse to correct the situation is to not ever refer to her as “my” anything, and simply call her by her name at all times.