The Camp Vamp: Katrina Fox

Commentary on GLBTIQ issues, social justice and some of life's quirks.

Sunday, July 30, 2006

Here comes the bride

Ever since I was a small child and forced to traipse along to endless weddings of cousins, half-cousins and neighbours, I knew it wasn't something I wanted to do myself. I didn't clamour to catch the bouquet - the cry of "you're next" was akin to being sentenced to prison in my young mind. Nothing much has changed, except I do come over a tad nostalgic whenever I hear Hi Ho Silver Lining or Rhinestone Cowboy, and I do rather miss the opportunity to do the Hokey-Kokey. But I need no excuse to don a big frock and look pretty - I don't need a special day to do it. As for children, unless they are furry, have four legs, a tail and miaow, I'm really not interested.

When my best friend Mandy in the UK, a truly independent, wanton and free spirit if ever there was one, emailed me a few weeks ago to tell me she was getting married to her long-term boyfriend, I felt a sick feeling in my stomach. Fortunately Mandy's eccentricity was greater than her desire to conform to notions of normality and she sent me a second email after the wedding which went as follows: "Lovely wedding (apart from mother-in-law who is very pissed off and not speaking to us). Only had two weeks notice so everything was quite mad. Exchanged battery and light bulb instead of rings, wore black (including trilby) and body glitter, walked down isle to the sound of two super jet aeroplanes, left to go to fetish club Torture Garden, had a chocolate wedding cake with label that read 'this product may contain nuts', and danced to You make me Feel Mighty Real by Sylvester."

But, personal reservations aside, there's nothing like a government telling me I can't have something to make me annoyed and want to fight for the right to do it if I do ever want to. I'm particularly annoyed with John Howard for passing the amendment to the Marriage Act, deeming marriage suitable only for heterosexual couples. This means my girlfriend and I will never be able to get ourselves a couple of Russian mail-order brides. If my email box is anything to go by, there's a melee of Slavic beauties just waiting to make us happy by keeping house and cooking meals, just as a good wife should. The Mail Order Bride Warehouse at says so. I clicked on the site's link to 30-year-old Mariya. Her vital statistics sound impressive but I'm a tad concerned about her marital status - she's divorced which doesn't augur well. I move onto Nataliya whose English is described as 'bad' and then Julia whose current occupation is rather disturbing - "housewife". But there's Lene and Ludmilla, both pretty young blonde students as well as several other girleys who can apparently speak English satisfactorily and have rather nice breasts to boot.

On August 13, I shall be joining lesbians and gay men throughout Australia to in the National Day of Action for Same Sex Marriage, organised by Community Action Against Homophobia ( because I will not be condemned to a lifetime of domesticity. I want the right to order my bride now.


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