“It’s finally time for you to receive the family heirloom. Happy birthday, dear Lisa.”
Lisa was ecstatic as her mother handed her a small box on her twelfth birthday. She already knew what was inside it – their family treasure, a ring passed down from mother to daughter through countless generations. It was said that this ring was magical, and Lisa couldn’t wait to put it on. Carefully prizing it from its box, Lisa placed her gift on her ring finger. Until now, the ring had been worn by Lisa’s mother, and was naturally too big for Lisa. Lisa watched the ring dangling off her finger, and then gasped in amazement as the ring slowly, steadily began to shrink until it fit her perfectly. Lisa turned to her mother in wonder.
“This is a very special ring, Lisa,” said her mother gently. “It has protected the women in our family for generations. It will never fall off your finger, and will always be there to guide you to a path of happiness and safety.”
The first time Lisa felt the ring’s influence was the following year, when she was thirteen. Her next door neighbour, whom she had known all her life, was suddenly taking more interest in her. He was middle-aged and divorced, and lived alone with his dog. He would often come over and play with Lisa when she was younger. Now, he began to ask her about school, then about her friends, then about boys. One day he invited her over, expressing concern for her wellbeing. “Be careful what you wear,” he had warned her. “Your body will tempt the boys and you need to cover yourself to avoid unwanted attention. You don’t want to disgrace your family, do you? And yet, if you’re not careful, you might be overpowered and then you will have to live with the shame for your whole life. I think of myself as your uncle, which is why I’m telling you this. I can protect you and make sure no one lays a finger on you.”
Lisa had never thought about these things before. What did he mean by her being ‘overpowered’? What attention was he talking about? What did her clothes have to do with anything? Why was he talking about her body? And why did she suddenly feel a deep, inexplicable sense of embarrassment and shame? Suddenly, Lisa felt something on her hand. Looking down, she saw the ring on her finger glowing slightly, a comforting warning, sending a warmth into her fingers that seemed to travel all the way to her heart. Taking a deep breath, she looked back up and in as authoritative a voice as she could muster at the age of thirteen, she declined her neighbour’s offer. “You don’t know anything about the world,” he growled in response, his expression souring. “A young girl like you – anything could happen.”
That night, Lisa told her parents what had transpired. Within a week, her neighbour had moved out. Lisa looked at her ring gratefully, deeply thankful to have such a wonderful guide and protector.
Over the tumultuous adolescent years that followed, the ring continued to help Lisa, growing warmer at moments when she was on the verge of making the wrong choices – spending time with the wrong people, allowing dangerous things to influence her, getting distracted from her studies, and much more. Lisa grew to rely on her ring and loved its reassuring presence in her life.
Lisa had graduated from college and begun working as a sales associate at a cosmetics company when her parents first brought up marriage. Lisa was shocked – she hadn’t even considered marriage yet. She was just beginning her career, and dreamed of creating her own makeup line one day. Lisa protested hotly to the suggestion of getting married, insisting that she wasn’t ready. Lisa saw her mother glance at the ring, which rested peacefully on Lisa’s finger, cool as the evening breeze that ruffled the leaves of the trees outside.
“Alright,” her mother conceded. “We’ll let you be, for now.”
And that was the end of the conversation – until the next year, when Lisa’s parents ambushed her on her birthday with unrelenting inquiries about her plans for settling down. Once again Lisa protested; she had already progressed an impressive amount from last year, and was well on her way to becoming a manager at her job. But this time, her parents were far less understanding.
“You are twenty-three years old now and time is running out,” said Lisa’s mother. “You have to get married.”
“You understand that we want what’s best for you, don’t you?” her father said gently. “Marriage will make you happy, please trust us. You need a husband to help take care of you, provide for you and keep you safe. If you don’t get married now, people will start to talk and spread all kinds of rumours about why you haven’t been able to get married. Your morals, your values, the beliefs you have been raised with – everything will be under question. I don’t want your life to become difficult for you.”
Lisa couldn’t believe that this is what she was hearing from her educated, culturally progressive parents. “Hold on, what do you mean when you say I need a husband to ‘take care of me’?” she began, indignantly. “I am a fully grown adult, and you think I need someone to parent me and provide for me, or any of the other ridiculous things you just said? I am financially independent, I have a steady job and a promising career, and lots of supportive friends who I trust, not to mention two parents. Where exactly am I lacking in life? What problems am I facing that I need a husband to solve? And if I needed a husband in order to live a happy life, isn’t that shameful? That a grown woman can’t support herself and find happiness on her own? How does my current position reflect badly on me or you?”
“You raised me to be self-sufficient, strong and dependable, and that’s exactly what I have become. How is the life I am leading a disappointment? And what do you mean by the neighbours making damaging assumptions about me? How is that at all my problem? How is living in fear of what others think part of the independence and integrity you taught me to have as a child?”
“Lisa, enough,” her mother interrupted. “You are too young to know what is best when it comes to these things. We have certain values as a community, and there are things that are done, and things that are not done. An adult woman living by herself out of wedlock is simply not done.”
“But how is that logical?” exclaimed Lisa.
“Lisa, that’s just how it is,” her mother replied. “There is a reason the institution of marriage has lasted for so long. I cannot – and will not – break our traditions and customs for an immature adult who doesn’t understand that we are doing this for their own good. Now, I have found some options for you who your father and I think have very promising potential. Take a look at their pictures – you can choose whoever you like and we will set up a meeting with them – ”
“Absolutely not,” said Lisa resolutely. “I have my own dreams and ambitions, and I know what will happen to them once I get married. I am not getting married – at least not in the near future. I – aargh!”
Lisa was interrupted once again, but this time not by her mother. A searing pain had erupted on her ring finger, burning like fire on her skin. Lisa quickly lifted her hand to look at her ring, and saw that it was glowing, red-hot and painful. Lisa tried to remove the ring but it would not budge. Her skin looked untouched, and yet Lisa had never felt so much pain before.
Lisa’s mother caught a glimpse of the ring and smiled knowingly. “See Lisa?” she said. “The ring also agrees with me – you have to trust us with this. This is a huge life decision and we will help you make the right one. The ring has never steered you wrong, has it? So don’t fight it, and it will give you a blessed and happy life.”
Lisa stared in horror at the immovable ring burning her finger. She was speechless with anger, shock and betrayal.
“Okay, let’s take it slow,” said Lisa’s father. “Why don’t you start with just looking at the boys we chose? We won’t rush you. Just take your time, pick who you like and we will slowly take it from there. How does that sound?”
The ring was still glowing angrily on Lisa’s finger, but the pain had lessened.
“Okay…” said Lisa hesitantly. “Okay, I’ll take a look at the boys. But I’m not making any promises yet.”
“We understand, Lisa,” said her father reassuringly. “Baby steps. Just keep an open mind, that’s all we ask of you.”
A year later, Lisa was married.
There was nothing wrong with her husband, but Lisa felt like she was living someone else’s life. She did not choose marriage, marriage was chosen for her. She did not choose her husband, her husband was chosen for her. Deep resentment welled inside Lisa’s soul, compounded by her husband slowly yet steadily pushing her into spending more time at home and less at work, at her career. “Who will cook?” he had asked, incredulously. “I need you to take care of our home. I really can’t manage without you here,” he had said. “Why are you working a job? What is it you want? More money for shopping? More clothes? Just tell me what you want and I will get everything for you.”
“All I want is control over my own life,” thought Lisa. But she said nothing.
There were nights when, after her husband had fallen asleep, Lisa tried to pry her ring off her finger. She tried loosening it with oil and butter, pulling at it with brute force, and on one particularly desperate night, she even tried to cut off the skin it was attached to. Nothing worked. The ring stayed put, sending red-hot waves of pain through Lisa’s body as punishment while her finger bled onto the kitchen floor.
Every time Lisa protested against her husband’s controlling requests, the ring burned her. Every time she dreamed of a different life, the ring sent a scorching heat through her hand. Even if she dared to let a single negative thought about marriage or her husband enter her head, the ring would glow, red, angry, threatening.
“It’s time we have kids,” said her husband one day. “You’re hardly spending any time at your job now, so why don’t you make life easier for yourself and quit? You can spend your time relaxing at home and raising children – the perfect family life.”
Deep down in Lisa’s soul, a spark of protest ignited. She knew having children meant devoting her life to them, a commitment she wasn’t yet prepared to make. But what choice did she have? She glanced at the ring, which was already beginning to glow – it knew what she was thinking, and was getting ready to punish her if she said the wrong answer.
“That sounds wonderful,” said Lisa to her husband.
A year later, Lisa gave birth to her first child.
When Lisa next visited her childhood home, she had already given birth to another child. Her parents were beyond themselves with happiness. “See Lisa?” her mother gushed. “Didn’t I tell you the ring would bring you happiness? Look at these beautiful children. You have a wonderful husband, a comfortable life and everything you could possibly need. So many people would kill to be as happy as you are now. I was just talking to our neighbours the other day, and they were telling me how their daughters didn’t want to get married – I told them about the wonderful life you had, and now they too, remember the value of marriage and the joy it brings. Isn’t this wonderful?”
“It really is wonderful,” Lisa agreed.
The ring had won. After enduring unbearable pain time and time again, Lisa had finally given up. She gave up her hopes, her dreams, her soul. She was empty, and the only thing that filled her emptiness was her ring. She no longer questioned, no longer argued. The ring would lead her to happiness. Follow the ring, and there will be no more worry, no more pain. Only happiness and safety.
From then on, the ring made Lisa’s decisions for her. The ring helped her give up her troubling thoughts and take comfort in the wonderful life she had. The ring helped her raise her children to have good grades and lots of friends.
When her younger child – a daughter – turned twelve, Lisa felt the ring loosen on her finger. Carefully, she removed it and placed it in the eager hands of her little girl, who had waited impatiently for the moment when she would be able to wear their treasured family heirloom.
“This ring will make you so happy,” said Lisa. “It will guide you and protect you, and make sure you live a wonderful life. Happy birthday, my beautiful daughter.”