"Husband? How old are you?"
This is a sentence that seems pretty innocuous, but it's one I've come to dread — so much so that I rarely ever call my "husband" by that unexpectedly loaded title. "Partner" will have to do, because the alternative is just not worth it.
I was a few weeks shy of my 25th birthday when we tied the knot, and I was so ready. Marriage felt like a natural progression of our relationship and "boyfriend" or "girlfriend" just didn't feel serious enough for what we had become to one another in the four years we'd been dating.
So, why not take this exciting step together and profess our union in a room full of loved ones?
In many ways, getting married made us even closer, if that were possible. We bonded through the immense stress of planning what was essentially the biggest party of our lives (made more intense by the fact that we had an intercultural multi-event wedding), and there was something so romantic and whimsical about being able to say "my fiancé".
What I didn't expect with this milestone, though, was how much it would bother complete strangers. It turns out, that getting married in your 20s is a pretty controversial decision — and everyone seems to have an opinion on it.
Watch: Can you wear white to a wedding? Post continues after video.
In the weeks following my wedding, I found myself the unwilling subject of interrogation by people I barely knew. Acquaintances and strangers alike spotted the ring on my finger and demanded an explanation on why I was married, as though I was a naive teenager or child bride and not a 25-year-old woman with my own degree, place, and full-time job.
One person even told me I was wearing my gem on my ring finger, as if this was likely a mistake and not because I am actually married.
It's been more than a year, but merely mentioning my "husband" still results in double takes from people I'm chatting to.
"But you're so young!" they cry out, completely aghast.
Some people have even had the audacity to ask me if I was pressured into marriage by my family, since I'm a South Asian woman who wears a hijab. When people notice my partner is white and I am not, the questions shift to "What do his parents think? Were they okay with it?"
Even people my own age seem uncomfortable at the mention of my "husband", with other Gen Z folk assuming I must be conservative or right-wing to have partnered so young. Either I'm dismissed as a boring old soul, or I'm assumed to be judgemental of non-married couples and premarital sex. (I can't believe I have to say this, but just because I got married, doesn't mean I think everyone else should!)
Even my husband hasn't been safe from this bizarre stigma. A few months after our wedding, he met a writer at an event whose book I've read. When he excitedly introduced himself and said his wife was a fan, the author's response was dismissive: "You don't look old enough to have a wife."
On another night out with friends just last month, he told a girl that was hitting on him that he was married. Her response was "you're Christian, then?" Nope, just in love.
We are not alone in feeling being married young has left us a little stigmatised — a colleague of mine who was married at a similar age confided in me that even at 30 years old, she still feels anxiety around using the "h" word because of the baggage it comes with.
In her experience, mentioning her marriage results in stereotypes of being a conservative Christian. She's often asked if she feels like she "missed out" by being in a long-term relationship in her 20s. Given the absolutely shocking horror stories we hear from our single girl friends, I'd assume the answer is no, she's alright, thanks — but it continues to confound me that people feel bold enough to not only assume dissatisfaction but then outright ask about our sex lives just because we're married. Suddenly, every part of our relationship is open to be picked at and investigated, despite the fact that we're no different to anyone else with a long-term partner.
The result of all these dismissals and stereotypes have been quite sad to see, because I feel embarrassed and shamed about a decision I was genuinely so excited about. Why must being married reflect on who I am, when so many people do it? Most of our parents were married in their 20s and yet, for some reason, I feel like a freak.
What's sadder is seeing my husband — who used to be excited to tell everyone about his wife — also default to the much safer and more neutral "partner" so that he doesn't have to deal with being patronised and talked down to.
It feels redundant and a little cliché to write the words "don't be judgemental!" but truly, it does bear repeating. People's relationship statuses are deeply personal and totally distinct —they shouldn't be projected onto others or invite interrogation or questioning by people we don't even know. And if someone is getting married (and the relationship is a healthy, happy one) let them live! Be excited! Bask in the warm glow of love!
Because really, at the end of the day, there isn't really much that differentiates a married couple from other relationships aside from a piece of paper. Let's let people be in love, whatever form that takes.
Feature Image: Supplied.
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