I don’t know many bloggers who post with the frequency and intensity of Amanda at Mousewords. Since discovering her blog in the midst of the Amy Richards controversy, I’ve been a fan — albeit a fan in frequent disagreement.
Yesterday, inspired by this post at Feministing, Amanda posted on engagement rings. Some excerpts:
While I understand that it’s maddening for some men to have women demand entirely too expensive rings as a symbol of engagement, it’s time to take a breath and remember that the engagement ring is not a symbol of male oppression, but of female oppression.
And:
Gaudy engagement rings have two functions–to demonstrate a man’s wealth and to demonstrate that a woman is taken. Men do not wear engagement rings. They do not function as display cases for wealth or as territory that is staked out.
Well, I don’t think there are many out there in the blogosphere who have purchased as many engagement rings as I have (four, thank you), so past experience alone gives me the right to say something on the matter.
I’ll admit my own bias: since the 1980s, I have been a sucker for the DeBeers "A Diamond is Forever" campaign. Honestly, I can’t think of a better, slicker, longer-running set of advertisements than their famous black-and-white television ads. Perhaps I’m sentimental, but I tend to tear up whenever those ads come on television.
It would be tasteless for me to disclose the size and cost — even the style — of my fiancee’s ring. (Suffice it to say, in my family we don’t do "gaudy". That’s so Not Our Kind of People.) But I will say this: I did not resent the expense. I do not consider the purchase of an engagement ring to be some wretched burden that men are forced to bear in the contemporary world. I’m not discounting the feelings of other men who regard the issue differently, simply saying that I approached the purchase with nervous excitement rather than dread and hostility.
On the subject of oppression, it’s important to remember that the origins of our traditions do not dictate their contemporary meaning. There is little doubt that the practice of having a father walk his daughter down the aisle to her groom (rather than having both parents escort her) is rooted in notions of the marriage as property transfer. But in the modern world, we are free to take older traditions and remake them, transforming their meaning as we please. What was once oppressive need no longer be so. I’ve known some strong women who walked down the aisle on Dad’s arm dressed in white — and they weren’t property (and they sure as hell weren’t virgins). At some point, oppression is entirely in the eye of the beholder, and these women didn’t feel oppressed by the ritual itself.
It is absolutely true that folks will make judgments about a man’s wealth and status based upon the size and perceived expense of his fiancee’s engagement ring. But again, their perceptions do not determine the exclusive meaning! For me, the engagement ring does not symbolize wealth or ownership; rather, it symbolizes sacrifice and enduring commitment. In many traditions, it is customary for a man to say to his bride "with all my worldly goods I thee endow". In the modern world, that means he is surrendering his financial (as well as his sexual) autonomy in order to build a blended life with his partner. That’s no small sacrifice when it is genuinely meant! The engagement ring symbolizes his commitment to share all that he has with her. (I suppose she could wear his 401K plan as a doily, but that wouldn’t be nearly as appealing.)
And lastly, I’m wearing an engagement ring on my right ring finger. It’s gorgeous, my fiancee picked it out, and I love it. I’m a great believer in restrained jewelry for men (rings, piercings, bracelets). I’m also a great believer in carrying on our bodies public signs of private commitments (hence my fondness for tattoos). I wear my engagement ring with pride and happiness; my students have noted that I tend to play with it while lecturing, just delighting in its feel beneath my fingertips.
I’m all for men wearing engagement rings, too. But I am curious: why your *right* ring finger? (The guy I know wearing one has it on his left; the people I knew who wore those rings on their right ring fingers were gay men in committed relationships.)
Left ring finger would get it confused with a wedding band. I like the idea of “switching it over” once we get married. If my gay brothers do it to symbolize commitment, so much the better.
As folks have pointed out elsewhere, Americans do it backwards compared to folks in Latin America and Europe, who wear the engagement/wedding bands on opposite hands.
On the subject of oppression, it’s important to remember that the origins of our traditions do not dictate their contemporary meaning.
On some level, this is obviously true. On the other hand, I don’t think it’s always enough to simply announce “that’s not what it means to me, so the oppressive symbolism of it all is therefore rendered mute.” Seems a little too easy, and in some other cases, I wonder if you’d be willing to accept this explanation at face value.
Still, the words ‘diamonds’ and ‘oppression’ and pretty inexorably linked in my mind, but for reasons that have to do with exactly nothing about the symbolism of the wealthy and comfortable First World folks who wear them. Not by a long shot.
Aw, crap, I left the link open, apparently. Hope this fixes it. It’s not the first time and it sure as hell won’t be the last–I apologize for the gross incompetence.
DJW beat me to it. Never have worn a diamond, never will.
I had heard that Congress had passed some sort of a fair trade diamond act a year or two ago; I’ll have to look it up.
No question, there’s a load of difference between the “oppression” of a woman wearing a diamond and the oppression of those mining the diamonds.
I had never wanted the engagement diamond (and my engagement ring’s a sapphire, not the traditional solitaire), but I have to confess now that I have it, I DO like the sparkly things…
My husband actually felt very cheated that he didn’t get an engagement ring – he would have loved to have one and was thrilled once he got his wedding ring. (I suppose we should have bought him an engagement ring too, but we were broke. I owe him a nice watch in return, though – we decided a watch was a good equivalent. Though NOT the engagement watches that I saw a mall jeweler’s promoting.)
My problem with the idea of an engagement watch is functionality. Men tend to be allowed to wear nice watches because they have a purpose — I wanted an engagement present that was decorative rather than utilitarian.
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I’ll admit my own bias: since the 1980s, I have been a sucker for the DeBeers “A Diamond is Forever” campaign.
And buying a DeBeers diamond ring is a sucker’s bet. I learned a lot about diamonds during a temp job; one of the women I worked with was married to a man who’d been previously engaged, and was shocked to discover when he tried to sell it after she broke it off that it had depreciated considerably. So when he got engaged to my coworker, he learned all he could about diamonds and hit pawn shops for loose diamonds.
Me? If I ever get engaged, we’re both getting Claddagh rings.
Hugo, I sincerely hope you haven’t gotten any names tattooed on you! Any tattoo artist who’ll put any name other than parents’ or children’s names should be taken out and shot.
Well, I think certain traditions can be remade, but I don’t think that you can just lift a tradition in whole, say it means something different on your word and have other people believe you. That’s why I talked about feeling like my fiance (at the time) was getting away with something–just because we were both avowed feminists didn’t mean that we were spared the feelings of ownership that the ring provoked in us and others.
But to *remake* a tradition is something entirely different. Exchanging rings instead of a man bestowing a ring signals equality. And commitment.
Unlike you, most men would balk at wearing an engagement ring. If I don’t believe these men when they say that they don’t believe the ring signals second class status, then I think you can see why I would feel that way.
Been married 17 years, and I still don’t have a diamond. In fact, I have said “Honey, I don’t need a diamond” in response to diamond ads that my husband now hears me say it even when I’m not with him.
It started because we couldn’t afford it (I bought our wedding rings because I had the job, and even then all I could afford was silver), and kept up after I learned more about DeBeers and their monopoly.
We do want to get 20th anniversary rings, and my husband wants diamonds (for both of us!), but we’re going to get pawn shop or man-made ones. DeBeers can go hang.
Our engagement was short (about four months); instead of engagement rings, we wore each others’ wedding rings (which were custom-made from a design we found in silver) as pendants. It’s the only time in my life I’ve worn anything like a necklace, actually; I love rings, though (tiger’s eye and puzzle rings form the bulk of my collection, but the pride and joy is the HUGE silver dragon my wife got me when I finished the Ph.D.).
The decision to get married was a mutual one, not a “popped question” and we were both quite aware of the other’s committment and the depth of the personal sacrifice and adventure we were embarking on. We didn’t really need to wear it.
My wife didn’t get a diamond from me until our seventh anniversary; she got another one for the eighth (as part of a black pearl setting), and yet we managed to keep that from becoming a tradition, somehow.
Yikes, Jonathan, what did you do for the ninth??
Like I said, it didn’t become a tradition. Last year we kept the gift thing to a minimum, though some self-indulgent purchasing got credited to presents (a somewhat expensive annual subscription to a download service…. a gift that keeps on giving).
Oh, and these are small diamonds. Pretty ones, but really small.
Never been a “diamonds are a girl’s best friend” type. I probably never will be. If I ever get engaged, I don’t think I’d want a diamond. The simplest ring could mean the world, as long as it’s from the love of your life. That’s all that really matters.
p.s.- I love the fact that you wear an engagement ring as well.
I resolve that I will never wear anything precious ever again!! I lost my most precious rings, one given to me by my mom a bit before she died, and one from my grandparents’ wedding bands. Then I lost an earring. Before that I lost other stuff. NEVER again. I am only ever wearing cheap, very very replacable things. EVER!!!!!!!
First, as a woman who cannot stand to lose anything precious or semi-important, i want to tell Tara I am so sorry she lost her rings.
I think her post comes closest to why I love, LOVE my engagement and wedding rings.
Short story: Two summers ago my husband and I spent a month in Mexico. One afternoon I lost all three of our wedding rings. They all happened to be on a necklace with a heart pendant on it, something that cost no more than one hundred dollars. For an hour and a half my husband and I combed the half-mile or so that we thought must hold the lost items. In the hour and a half, C. never came close to yelling at me. He never had a cross word for me, though the sheer loss of money valued in the rings should have sent him into the stratosphere. We were college kids. just graduated, no way to replace them. But he never showed any concern for anything other than me, my tears, my fears that he would become angry at me. I meant more than our rings even in those crazy moments, and I was every bit as grieved for the necklace- it had been his first gift to me. rings are a powerful emotional symbol- but which symbol really does depend on the person.
oh, and we found the rings.
The simplest ring could mean the world, as long as it’s from the love of your life. That’s all that really matters.
I know a couple who are avid scuba divers, and the husband wanted to propose underwater, but he didn’t want to risk losing an expensive ring (plus, he wanted to pick it out with her). So he used a cheap ring his mother had found on the bus she drives.
The wife still wears that ring — she refused a “real” engagement ring, because the cheap one has so much meaning to her.
No question, there’s a load of difference between the “oppression” of a woman wearing a diamond and the oppression of those mining the diamonds.
Indeed, the latter is a case of real oppression whose victims are mostly men. Imagine that!
The former is yet another example of a shame-based, manipulative, “I’m-victim-hear-me-roar” feminist fantasy of oppression.
Jeff JP
In other words, Jeff, you buy into the rhetorical game whereby if we can find somebody who is suffering worse, you don’t really suffer at all. I assume you therefore scold men’s-rights activists who complain about, say, child-support payments. “You call that real oppression? Imagine if you were a diamond miner in South Africa!”
Hugo, what DJW said. What a symbol may or may not mean for you does not erase the larger meaning of that symbol.
For people really into precious stones, two words: Estate jewelry.
I definitely agree with zuzu that having a history and meaning is much more important than being expensive and shiny. In the three years I was with my ex, the only jewelry I ever got her — and the only thing she ever wanted — was a bracelet that I made out of a piece of bark one time while we were camping.
My main problem with engagement rings (as well as the father giving away the bride thing) is the asymmetry of it. So I think Hugo’s found the right solution. Anything that can be said in defense of a man buying a woman an engagement ring applies to a woman buying one for a man (and a man for a man and a woman for a woman).
I’m so glad there are so many other people who have the same issues with diamonds as I. I watched a Frontline episode in college on the diamond trade and was very disturbed by it.
I think the male engagement ring is a great idea, on a different note.
My grandparents were married in 1926. My grandfather bought a set of art deco platinum wedding bands, no stones, just beautiful hand crafted artistry for the both of them. He passed away in 1987 and my grandmother kept his ring with her ring, as she was no longer able to wear hers due to arthritis. When my husband first met my grandmother, long before we entertained thoughts of marriage…my grandmother gave me the rings; I guess she saw something that I did not. We were not entirely poor and we visited Tiffany’s many (many) times, but what diamond could compare to the simple, beautiful bands that my grandparents wore for 61 years! When my grandmother knew that her time on earth was growing short, she told me that the traditional wedding vows are wrong…death does not part love, it can only create physical distance for a few moments in time, love is eternal. When I look at my ring and the ring on my husband’s hand, I not only see the symbol of our love and commitment to each other for all time but a romance that began between two teenagers in Pasadena, California in 1924 and a love that that has no end. I don’t know who I will leave these rings to but I pray that when that time come, I will have made my grandparents proud and that love will guide these rings onto another set of hands that will never part.
Shoot, blackkoffeeblues, you’re making me all sniffly… and I don’t even believe in eternal *anything*.
Yeah, I’d offer it to DeBeers, but they are unworthy
)))
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Cubit zirconium. And several years later, we even pawned that cheapie. It was the only way we could afford to buy her tampons.
I’ve nothing against sentimentalism, but sometimes reality just can’t afford it.
Why bother if you’re going to get a CZ? Just go for the wedding band.
yes, giving a woman an expensive diamond ring opresses her.
the masterminds of feminist thinking strike again !
My boyfriend and I got in a little tiff last night. I am a feminist (and he supports me in this), but, for whatever reason, I really want a (small) diamond engagement ring. He knows that I want this and that it is important to me. I gave him a ring that he always wears on his right ring finger- he will switch it to his left ring finger when we get engaged as an engagement ring. It is a simple sterling band with our names engraved on the inside. So… we both agree that it is fair for either both or neither people to wear engagement rings.
The disagreement he raised last night was: How come the ring I HAVE to buy you is so much more expensive than the ring you get me. It isn’t fair! etc. etc.
Nevermind the fact he earns $12,000 more a year than I do and is guaranteed substantial raises (plus cost of living increases), while I work in nonprofit organizations where raises barely cover the increase in cost of living. Nevermind the fact that I have $60,000 in loans from undergraduate and graduate school. Nevermind the fact that his bank account is at least 3 times as big as mine.
Even before this disagreement, his lack of generosity is the trait I least like in him….
“Because the rings they make for women cost more than the rings they make for men.”
My husband and I have plain Clauddagh rings. Mine is a small, gold Clauddagh; his a large, sterling silver one. He was the only man who’d ever walked into the store where we bought them who had hands big enough that the ring looked good. It’s perfect for him. On me, silver washes out, gold looks better. They had women’s Clauddaghs that had diamonds, emeralds, etc, but the plain gold looked better on my hand. And it was STILL more expensive than his big silver Clauddagh. Go figure.
My fiance and I just got engaged. I got a sterling silver claddagh ring with a rose colored stone that was made from the inside of a mussel shell. He too got an engagement ring. It is a sterling silver spinner with claddaghs and eternity knots. We love them more than any gold or diamonds in the whole world, which is how much we love each other. All the money in the world can’t buy something that means so much.
Amy,
I’ve a plain gold clauddagh and my husband has a large, plain, sterling silver clauddagh. (In the two years the store had his ring, he was the only man whose hand “fit” the ring. It looks wonderful on him. Gold is better on me.) I’d not trade these for all the jewels in the world.