I have this friend. In fact, he's my Facebook fiancé, and despite my best dissuasion, he is planning on an arranged marriage. but not with me.
Our engagement, for now, is held in limbo by Mark Zuckerberg and confined to Facebook.com. Nate's real bride pines for him somewhere in the Jordanian Valley, anxiously clutching his photo (and her hejab) and counting down the days to his arrival. She's never met him, but she knows everything she needs to: that his Potomac/ Newport Beach upbringing, refined affinity for plaid and pastel and "old money" background are made all the more appealing by the fact that he is a student at Yale, speaks Farsi, is learning Arabic and has a newfound interest in Islam.
Although her desire for an arranged marriage may not surprise many of us, Nate's interest in such a marriage does. But should it? By modern and post-modern definitions, Nate, like many of us, has been afforded too many opportunities to want to settle down so quickly, committing himself (and half his pending salary) to somebody else at the tender age of 21.
Nate's throwback to the traditional courting process-his interest in a drive-thru relationship, engagement and marriage, based on compatibility-is not unique. Statistics show that this desire to return to an age-old, backward approach to relationships is more common than you might think. What's uncommon, however, is that Nate, unlike most women in his position, isn't giving up the dream of a career.
As Duke students, we have all been groomed for occupational success. Problem is, very few women will ever pursue the careers that Duke has prepared them for. In a controversial article by Louise Story for The New York Times titled "Many Women at Elite Colleges Set Career Path to Motherhood," it was discovered that 60 percent of women attending top universities said that they wanted to commit themselves to being full-time mothers and housewives upon having their first child.
One female Yale student interviewed said, "My mother's always told me you can't be the best career woman and the best mother at the same time." Sadly but surely, she's right. Our generation has witnessed mothers who did it all-the woman who played housewife and CEO-but never really won at either.
While it's unrealistic for us, as the daughters of our double-burdened mothers, to want it all as well-and while it's understandable why we have decided to choose between a career and motherhood-what's stupefying is why the women of Harvard, Yale and (presumably) Duke have chosen the traditional role of mother.
As women, we don't have to do both, but we don't have to choose the life of a housewife either. Despite insistence from conservative parties and the Church, we are not, as women, responsible for the reproduction of the human race. The world, already overpopulated, is not pining for our babies.
I can't help but wonder: Would the New York Times study have yielded different results had the interviews been conducted at Duke? My bets are on a high statistical number of Duke women opting for housewife status, just so long as that house comes with a Jaguar and a maid. We are, after all, a school notorious for our MRS degree, southern belles and women from the northeast who act like southern belles.
But why wonder when we can be sure:
"I often question how I will juggle the responsibilities of motherhood as well as further my career in medicine," Duke Junior Alexa Issa says. "Growing up my mother gave up her career to raise my brother and I, and I think that having a mother around is very important. In the next 10 years I see myself altering my career once I have children."
With divorce rates at a staggering high, it is surprising that women still haven't given up on the dream of marriage and family, with the delusional notion that this time, things will be different. And what's more surprising is this: The women who most adamantly hold on to the false dream of living "happily ever after" as wives and mothers are not hopeless, incapable women; they are educated, intelligent women who spend $50k/year on education.
Shadee Malaklou is a Trinity senior. Her column runs every other Wednesday.
Get The Chronicle straight to your inbox
Signup for our weekly newsletter. Cancel at any time.