There’s something especially romantic about the holiday season. Maybe it’s the twinkling white lights strung everywhere or the cold weather that necessitates cuddling for warmth and sitting beside roaring fires. Or perhaps, it’s just the fact that champagne flows more freely this time of year. Whatever it is, there is clearly something about the holidays makes people want to get married.
According to Conde Nast’s 2009 American Wedding study, 13 percent of engagements take place in December. Compare that to Valentine’s Day, when just eight percent of marriage proposals occur. I’m sure all of this has nothing to do with the fact that you can’t flip through a magazine, watch a 30-minute sitcom or drive a mile on the highway in December without being reminded oh-so-subtly by DeBeers that “a diamond is forever.” Nevertheless, ’tis the season to put a ring on it!
So, I’ve been thinking a lot about rings — specifically about gay ladies and engagement rings. As recently as five years ago, you didn’t see many lesbian brides-to-be sporting big rocks on their left hands. Maybe that was because we were pretty much relegated to the commitment ceremony, which still conjures images of patchouli and Birkenstocks for me, or the civil union, which sounds far too serious and clinical to include something as frivolous and festive as diamond ring.
But now, whether it is legally recognized or not, we are getting married. And where there is marriage, there are usually rings. And thankfully, we seemed to have moved past those awful rainbow-colored bands with the interlocking female symbols. That genre of “wedding ring” always seemed, in my mind, to mock same-sex marriage more than celebrate it. They’re kind of like the gaudy Mickey Mouse ears you might bring home from Disney World (“I got gay married and I have this hideous rainbow ring to prove it!”). We’re gay — not completely devoid of style or taste.
These days, it seems more and more lesbians are following a traditional path that includes a romantic proposal and one or more engagement rings. You could say we are mimicking heterosexual marriage and buying into a custom that has historical links to ownership of women by men. But I would say we are choosing to participate more fully in a tradition (marriage) that we’ve only recently gained access to. I would argue that lesbians previously shied away engagement rings because we didn’t feel entitled to them. Society was sending us a loud and clear message that whatever little commitment ceremony we might be having was not the real thing, and so we (understandably) steered clear of outward signs that unequivocally symbolize marriage — like big shiny diamonds.
When some high-profile lesbians like Ellen DeGeneres started popping the question with some bling to back it up, I think the rest of us began to follow suit. Who among us did not swoon at Portia’s three-carat Neil Lane pink diamond stunner? (As if getting to spend every day of the rest of your life with Ellen is not gift enough!)
Of course, the lesbian engagement ring does beg some questions. For starters, who pops the question and who wears the ring? Do two ladies mean two rings? And, what if you are ideologically or aesthetically opposed to diamonds?
If your relationship includes some sort of butch-femme dynamic, then it was probably perfectly clear to both of you around your second date who would be getting down on one knee and who would be wearing the jewels. But, what if you’re a girlie girl paired up with another femme? In that case, start saving now for not one, but two diamond rings. That’s what The Real L Word‘s Nikki and Jill did when they decided to tie the knot. (They, however, were also able to afford to redecorate their entire house for Passover, so don’t feel compelled to match their engagement ring budget.)
Or maybe you are a butch girl, but you still want an outward sign that you are engaged. I am fairly certain that my girlfriend, who is the most chivalrous and romantic boyish woman I know, will want some engagement bling (if for no other reason than she would never pass up an opportunity to receive a gift). She wouldn’t want a traditional diamond ring like the one I fall asleep dreaming of every night. Maybe I’ll get her a subtler, more masculine engagement ring or perhaps a fancy pre-nuptial watch, but I’m fairly certain I won’t be getting off the hook entirely.
I’d be remiss (and probably get lots of nasty emails) if I didn’t address the issue of ethics and diamonds. It is true that many of the diamonds that grace the fingers of American and European women were mined by children in forced labor and perpetuate civil wars in Africa. I agree that there is nothing romantic about those so-called “blood diamonds.” Fortunately, there are plenty of alternatives. Consider other gemstones like rubies or sapphires. If a sapphire is good enough for princess-to-be Kate Middleton, who received the late Princess Diana‘s 18-carat sapphire engagement ring, it’s probably good enough for your gal.
Heirloom diamonds are another way to avoid the ethical quagmire that comes with purchasing a new diamond. If your lady doesn’t exactly share your grandmother’s taste, no worries, have the family jewels reset in style that suits your future wife. If you won’t be inheriting diamonds any time soon, you can still get an antique rock by scouring estate sales and vintage jewelers. And, there are some jewelers like Harry Winston that mine diamonds in Canada rather than Africa, which means you can buy a diamond with a clear conscience.
While I am blinded by diamonds, I am not blind to the fact that some lesbians (and straight folks, for that matter), may not want a flashy engagement ring. Maybe diamonds just aren’t your style. Perhaps you’d feel more “engaged” with matching tattoos or a simple private promise between the two of you. Or maybe you plan to exchange classic matching gold bands on your wedding day and skip any engagement jewelry altogether. To each her own!
What do you think? Do you want a diamond engagement ring? Are you planning to pop the question this holiday season? How did you and your lady decide to tie the knot?
Meg Streit is a full-time freelance journalist in Chicago.
