Is it appropriate to congratulate the bride if you know she doesn’t want to be there? For my current draft, I needed to come up with something for a character to say in this situation. To jog my brain, I ended up googling both “things to say to a bride” and “things not to say to a bride.”
You are supposed to tell the bride how beautiful she looks because “all brides want to hear that” and because of all the work that went into starvation diets. However, this is not supposed be phrased as “You did such a beautiful job starving yourself!”
You’re not supposed to tell the bride that you hate weddings, but that you’re enjoying hers. Even though, as far as I’m concerned, this is the highest compliment one can pay a wedding. Because weddings can be the worst.
Our wedding was a Halloween wedding, but we had a strong subtheme of “excising wedding traditions that we hate, particularly gendered ones.” I would’ve been perfectly happy if someone told me that my wedding was the exception to their wedding hatred.
You’re not supposed to compare the wedding to another wedding, such as by saying, “Julia and Mark used the same typeface on their place cards!” because the bride worked ever so hard to make the wedding unique (especially while operating on such a low number of calories).
This is the case even though there’s a whole industry of wedding shit that most brides are getting their unique centerpieces from.
There are a finite number of cupcake flavors and only so many ways to turn a mason jar into a centerpiece.
It’s been five weeks since I posted an excerpt from Stars Fall Out. A single-scene wedding I’d planned instead turned out to take up six scenes, making me feel as though I’ve been stalled in one spot. But in fact, I finished 13 scenes since I posted that last excerpt.
For this wedding snippet, I ended up doing the aforementioned perplexing wedding research to figure out what one might say to a bride at her wedding without congratulating her.
The research didn’t help; I figured out my own answer.
In seconds, people were all around us with compliments on our attire, on the ceremony, and on our perfection as a couple. I turned from one to the next, reflexively taking hands and accepting compliments, Tirsan by my side, and then gone, pulled away by some of his many cousins.
A hand fell onto my shoulder, no different than any other, aside that it came with a single word whispered in my ear, pronounced perfectly in a more imperial voice than the one I knew.
He came around to face me, his hand drifting off my shoulder. “The ceremony was fascinating,” Pinuar said in what I knew as his regular, Tavhathan voice. “And educational.”
Then he disappeared into the crowd.
And if you happen to be someone who’s been living under an assumed name for eight months and coming to see the bride in her father’s bakery, you might finally tell her your real name. And that you realize you were invited by a verbal accident, but you came anyway so that she has a single person to relax and be unhappy with.
And then you can go get yourself smacked in the face because a guy thinks you got him kicked out of his magic lab.
There’s nothing like becoming a parent to turn someone into a militant, judgmental psychopath. A common complaint is that our culture has become increasingly polarized. I often wonder if this is true, or if this statement is a result of nostalgia. As parenting goes, the polarization is here now, and easy to spot, starting with natural birth versus hospital birth and breastmilk versus formula. Once toddlerhood comes about, there’s child leashes versus YOU MONSTER WHY WOULD YOU LEASH A CHILD LIKE SOME KIND OF ANIMAL?*
That’s where I am now.
I started researching this topic when my toddler was about a month into walking, and her running off into the road became a tangible possibility. Was a leash something we’d need or want, or was this now considered a barbaric practice better left in the 1980s?
What I found at the start of this research process didn’t help me at all. There haven’t been a lot of studies done on child leashes. In lieu of science, the internet served up a chunky stew of thinking errors, logical fallacies, and ad hominem attacks.
In other words, the discussion of child leashes borders on useless. In a state of reactionary horror, the anti side won’t entertain practical considerations, instead screaming about ethical questions that they don’t bother to ask. The pro side has seemingly been more willing to look the pragmatic side, but the ethical questions are the elephant knocking politely at the front door, still having not made it into the room.
In the would-be Venn diagram of these two sides, both lack questions that should be asked, and the overlap between sides is crescent-moon thin.
That’s where I come in. I have either no sides, or many. I’m an amorphous cloud with no direction.
I’m pro rationality. I’m pro critical thinking. I’m pro questioning.
Forget sides. If you’re figuring things out, here are some useful questions to ask about child leashes and other parenting choices:
Is there any scientific research to support either position?
In terms of physical effects?
In terms of psychological effects?
How old is the research?
Who funded it?
Is it applicable to all types of leashes, or only a particular kind?
The answer to the big question, unfortunately, is “not very much.”
How does being leashed affect the child?
In the long term?
In the short term?
Does this encourage the traits I want to instill in my child?
Does leashing encourage or curtail a willingness to explore?
Does it encourage or curtail bodily autonomy?
And which of those things do you want?
The antis say no, duh, your kid is on a leash. The pros say yes, because you’re now enabled to take your kid into the environment and let them walk.
Is the leash a response to realistic dangers or imagined ones?
Is my view on leashes, as it is now, consistent with other views that I hold?
Would it make more sense to avoid the situation in question, at least until the child is older?
Are there some situations where leashing is more or less acceptable?
Are there some situations in which it’s worth trading off long-term effects for the sake or safety?
Long term psychological damage is meaningless if a child is truly harmed. But if you can avoid the situation altogether, wouldn’t that be preferable?
Is it the most pragmatic solution?
Do leashes even work?
If so, are they effective, particularly versus other options?
Have you fixated on the leash as a solution when there is a different root problem that needs to be fixed?
Some anti-leash folks say that kids need to be disciplined, not leashed. That statement itself is a huge can of worms, but does point to a potential root problem that might need to be addressed.
Also, I can say from experience that leashes don’t always work. I was leashed as a child, and I still remember squirming out of my harness at the fabric store and hiding in colorful bolts of patterned cotton.
No, I have no idea how it affected me psychologically. I did enjoy the fabric though.
In his latest season of Revisionist History, Malcolm Gladwell did a series on “thinking like a Jesuit” and using Jesuit reasoning to solve moral dilemmas by looking at the particulars of a situation. In this case, one might ask, “Is a child leash closer to a set of handcuffs, which might hold a prisoner, or a safety strap on a carseat?” One might also ask if it’s like having a dog on a leash, and if so, is having a dog on a leash positive or negative.
It’s a lot of thought-work for one seemingly minor decision. But habit shapes who we are, and if a leash is something that would potentially be used often, it’s worth considering possible outcomes. The gap between intention and actuality is where our personalities form.
When I first drafted this several months ago, I decided that I wasn’t going to conclude by choosing a side. I would leave it open, even if writing this and thinking through all my questions had swayed me to a particular side.
This hasn’t been an issue that I’ve spent endless months grappling with, or lost any sleep over. When I first drafted this, my toddler was still at the stage of strollers and wrap carriers. In the interim, as this sat on my hard drive and I posted other things, my child went from a hesitant walker to a kid who yells, “RUNNING RUNNING RUNNING” at the top of her lungs and climbs anything. We passed into the stage at which, if we were going to use leashes, we would be using them.
You know the saying that actions speak louder than words?
By my actions, I’m on the side of no leashes.
But my circumstances allow this. I live on a rural area; I don’t need to contend with busy city streets. I also have only one child.
I taught her not to run into the road. Considering that she just turned two, I’m happy with how well she does. However, I have no way of knowing if that’s down to successful parenting, or if it’s because she’s an easier kid than I was.
The research that hasn’t been done yet is what would’ve swayed me to one side or another. As it is, while my actions have put me on the no-leash side, philosophically and ethically, I’m still neutral.
Neutral, and excessively pro-questioning.
*People like to ignore that they too are animals. I’ve taught my two-year-old to answer the question “What type of animal are you?” The answer is “hooman.”
This article discusses the myth of bilingual people reverting to their native language when expressing strong emotions. From what I’ve read, it’s not necessarily untrue that this happens, but there’s more nuance than automatically reverting to one’s earliest language, and more variables than time.
A couple quotes I found interesting:
When a childhood in one language lacked affection or was marked by distressing events, then bilinguals may prefer to express emotion in their second language.
When bilinguals are angry, excited, tired or stressed, their accent in a language can reappear or increase in strength. In addition, they often revert to the language(s) in which they express their emotions, be it their first or their second language, or both.
I read the article as part of my research for Stars Fall Out, and it’s not totally applicable in my case, since I’m writing a multi-lingual character who starts slipping out of an assumed accent. But this is still useful information to have it mind.
For more of my Stars Fall Out research, I started looking up historical forms of birth control for something I can bend to fit my story. This is not that thing:
During the 16th century, Canadians began using the combination of beaver testicles with moonshine. They ground the beaver balls to fine powder and then added very strong alcohol to the mixture. People would then drink this, with the alcohol helping to forget that they were drinking beaver testicles.
I’m the lightest lightweight ever, and it would take an entire jug of wine for me to forget I was drinking beaver testicles. This is because no amount of alcohol would make me forget drinking beaver testicles; you’d need to straight up smack me over the head with the wine jug and concuss me for me to forget that.
Here are a couple things I’ve learned about while doing worldbuilding research for Stars Fall Out:
The Roman month of Mercedonious. Learning more about the history of intercalation (inserting extra days into the calendar, such as in a leap year), provided the inspiration for me to fix a story problem. I have a section of Stars that, timing-wise, felt weird in relation to the rest of the story. I decided to run with the weirdness; I made them intercalated days called for on the authority of one of the Grand Oneiromancers. One of those “can you believe this law is still on the books?” kind of things.
I also learned how to convert between different number base systems. I’ve always thought it would be cool if we had a base 12 system rather than base 10, so I gave one of the cultures in my story a base 12 system, and another base 9. Now I’m trying to make it as hard as possible for them to change currency, which is adding some nice color to a scene in the bakery when a guy comes in with imperial money.