Wedding Rings, Colonialism, & Identity

I lost my wedding ring this weekend. Not in the sense of “I can’t seem to find it anywhere,” but in the sense of “it is somewhere on the bottom of a river in northern Wisconsin.” It is long gone.

Despite the fact that there was nothing unique or special about my particular ring, and that it can be easily replaced, I have felt a real sense of disappointment and loss. Yes, I feel bad anytime I lose anything, and yes, my ring finger feels naked without it. But the sense of loss goes deeper than these things. Why do I feel so down about a temporary ringlessness?

Symbols Do Things

As I’ve reflected on this, I keep coming back to the same vague and mysterious notion that the ring was part of me. Specifically, the ring was what some fancy-pants scholars might call a “facilitator of identity.” An important part of who I am, of who I understand myself to be, is that I am a covenantal partner with Ashley. That covenant is symbolized by the ring I wear.

I always carry with me, on my body, a symbol of the most important relationship in my life. It’s part of how I move through the world, make meaning of my life, and participate in society. Without that object, I still have an identity—but it is no longer being facilitated as it once was.

Following the winding path of this reflection has led me to two other meditations: the pain of divorce and the horrors of the European colonial project.

Losses of Identity

If I feel pain and loss simply due to the loss of the symbol of a relationship, I can only imagine the hardship of divorcees losing the relationship itself. And this is the point of the whole identity reflection: even if both partners are on the same page that the marriage needs to end, and even if both are fully at peace with the decision, they’re still each losing an important part of their identity. They still each have an identity, but it will need to be rediscovered or perhaps re-forged. If you know anyone on that particular painful and scary journey, trust me: they need your compassion, not your judgment.

This loss of wedding ring has also caused me to think about the way that European colonizers stole land from indigenous peoples. And this is what I’m reflecting on: this evil is not simply some capitalistic crime. It’s not just bad because we view land as being worth a lot of money, so this land-grab represented a stealing of value or capital. Yes, under the logic of capitalism, those things are true, and colonization was bad for those reasons.

But to the Native peoples themselves (based on reading I’ve done, but I realize I’m not an expert!), who were not capitalists, this was not the real tragedy. The real tragedy was that they were separated from their lands—lands that facilitated their identity! Like my wedding ring, but in a much more holistic and communal sense, the land helped them understand who they were and what their roles and purposes were on this planet.

And that was all stolen.

There are other examples of land theft in history and in our time. Many Black people right now are being forced out of their neighborhoods by the escalating prices of gentrification (performed predominantly by White people). Stealing someone’s place (or, in the case of the colonists’ slave trade, stealing them from their place) is evil.

Respecting Identity and its Symbols

I am still in the middle of this reflection myself, so I don’t yet know its ending. What that means for you, O reader, is that I don’t really know how to land this plane. I think if my 21-year-old self had read this piece, he would have scoffed because “our true identity is found only in Christ,” or something along those lines. But ultimately this is another example of identity facilitation! Our church building, our favorite worship song, our cross necklace—these artifacts and symbols help us understand who we are. In fact, when loud conservatives stoke fears about how “they’re coming to take our Bibles away,” they are tapping into this very idea.

Our wedding rings, religious resources, and neighborhoods teach and reinforce who we are. When we meet someone new, they have a whole host of items and places that facilitate their identity. Maybe part of love is to learn and respect the Other’s identity, including the various ways that identity is displayed, passed on, experienced, and understood. And to mourn with them when those facilitators are lost… or stolen.

If part of your identity is following Jesus into expansive, inclusive love that stands with the dispossessed, you can sign up here to meet some kindred spirits.