Pregnancy, Marriage, and the things we pretend are Love
Why do we treat marriage as a favor granted by men? And why are girls disproportionately expected to bend laws, age, and futures to accommodate circumstances?
A lot of things annoy me. But very few things irritate me as much as watching people shower a man with praise for marrying the woman he impregnated.
"Oh my God, such a good man."
"A responsible man."
"He did her right."
Excuse me? Because unless I missed a chapter in the social handbook, he did not find this woman abandoned in the forest and rescue her. He found her good enough to date, good enough to sleep with, good enough to build a family with, and then eventually married her. Why are we acting like he donated a kidney?
Even if you do not subscribe to the idea of waiting until marriage – and many (many) of us do not – how noble is it really to do what was already your responsibility?
I have a relative who had children with his partner before marriage. One child, then another. By the time they got married, baby number three was on the way. And I remember people saying, "You are a good man. You did her right." I struggled to participate in the compliment.
Not because marrying her was wrong. Quite the opposite, I am happy for them. But because I think, society often makes it seem like marriage is a favor a man grants a woman. And that has never sat right with me.
Hear me clearly: I am not saying people should not get married because they got pregnant or because they already have children together. Some of the happiest marriages begin under circumstances no one planned for. And I, for one, love a good story with plot twists.
My issue is when marriage becomes social damage control. When a wedding is less about two people choosing each other and more about appeasing relatives, religion, neighbors, or the ever-watchful committee of "what will people say?"
Marriage is beautiful. God knows I’m day dreaming about mine everyday! But…obligation wears a very different dress from love. Before saying yes to marriage, perhaps we ought to ask ourselves and each other, the unromantic questions.
Do you trust each other? Can you communicate without threatening to block one another every Tuesday? Have you discussed finances? Child-rearing? Long-term goals? etc
Because if the answer to most of these is no, then pregnancy has not solved your relationship problems. It has simply added a newborn to them. Marriage does not magically fix incompatibility. If anything, it highlights it in high definition.
And here is an unpopular opinion: someone can be a wonderful parent and still be a terrible partner. The two are not the same. You can successfully co-parent without being married. You can jointly raise children with dignity, love, and responsibility without legally binding yourselves to a relationship that may not work.
A child deserves loving parents. That does not always mean married parents. And trust me, that is not an easy sentence for me to write. I, too, am a product of this society. I was raised surrounded by resilient women who stayed "for the children." Women who carried homes on their backs, swallowed pain in silence, and wore endurance like a badge of honor.
For the longest time, I thought that was love. Now, as I grow older, I sometimes find myself wanting to tell them, “you should have left for the children.”
Because trust me, no child wants fighting parents. No child wants a home where doors slam louder than laughter. No child wants yelling fathers or mothers. No child wants parents who hate each other's guts and remind each other of it every other day.
Speaking from experience, or perhaps more accurately, from trauma, children hear more than adults think they do. They hear the insults and threats. They hear "I'll leave you" and "I'll divorce you" so many times that eventually the words lose their meaning. Children become accustomed to dysfunction so early that they mistake survival for normalcy.
Children would rather have two loving parents living separately than live in a home where fear has become routine. Children would rather have two alive but separated parents than lose one to violence and the other to prison. Children would rather have one happy, emotionally available parent than two adults slowly shrinking under the weight of resentment.
Sometimes the greatest gift a parent can give a child is not staying. We inherit many things from our parents: their names, their eyes, their mannerisms. Too often, also their unhealed wounds. And that is why I no longer believe that every marriage must be preserved at all costs. Some marriages deserve therapy. Some deserve patience and forgiveness. But others deserve an honest ending.
So before tying yourself even more tightly to someone you are already connected to for life through a child, perhaps ask yourself: What is pushing me toward marriage? Family pressure, religion, fear, personal desire? And what concerns about this relationship am I secretly hoping marriage will solve? Trust me, marriage is many things. A miracle worker is not one of them.
Then there is another phenomenon that leaves me genuinely bewildered: girls increasing their age so they can get married. That sentence alone should make us pause. Not ask how they did it. Ask why they felt they had to. Why would a girl be willing to become older on paper before she has had the chance to grow older in life?
Rwanda's legal marriage age is 21. And every time someone dismisses that number as arbitrary, I find myself asking: do we ever stop to ask why 21 was chosen in the first place? Science tells us that parts of the brain involved in judgment, planning, and impulse control continue developing well into our twenties.
Of course, religion complicates this conversation. As a Catholic myself, I know the fact that canon law allows marriage at sixteen. If civil institutions did not establish higher safeguards, we would be openly eligible to become wives, and eventually mothers. That thought blows my mind.
Recent legal amendments in Rwanda allow individuals aged eighteen to twenty to seek authorization to marry if they present "reasonable grounds." Reasonable grounds!
A phrase so neat on paper and so messy in practice. The law cites reasons such as cohabitation, pregnancy, protecting children's rights, economic independence, or avoiding unnecessary separation. And this is where my frustration boils over. Because who, in reality, most often carries the burden of these exceptions? Girls. Again and again, girls.
If a nineteen-year-old boy wanted to marry a twenty-nine-year-old woman through special authorization, we would probably stare in disbelief. Yet stories of girls, sometimes extremely young girls, seeking ways around age restrictions are far from uncommon.
And then we reach the conversation no one likes having: age gaps. Not all age-gap relationships are exploitative. Adults are adults. But if you ask me? Power matters. Life stage matters. Experience matters.
A seventeen-year-old and a thirty-year-old are not merely separated by thirteen years. They are often separated by power, resources, emotional development, and the ability to negotiate freely. And when society repeatedly expects girls to become older on paper, marry because of pregnancy, or carry the burden of preserving family honor, one cannot help but ask: Who exactly are these systems protecting?
And that is what troubles me most. Not the weddings. Not the pregnancies. Not even the laws. But how easily society asks girls to grow up faster while giving boys a standing ovation for eventually catching up!!
And while I am already making enemies today, can we also talk about the phrase "Naramubyariye"? Every time I hear it, a tiny sociologist inside me sits up. Because what do you mean, "I gave him a child"?
No, my sister. You did not gift him a handbag. You did not buy him a goat. You did not present him with a Christmas hamper wrapped in ribbon. You both brought a whole new human being into this world. A child is not a favor you do for a man. A child is not payment for love. A child is not collateral for commitment.
This way of speaking matters more than we realize because language shapes how we think. When we say, "Naramubyariye," we unconsciously frame the child as something given to the father, as though motherhood creates a debt that must eventually be repaid with marriage, loyalty, or provision.
Then when life happens, the relationship ends, and the man leaves. Suddenly people start saying, “Yamutaye kandi yaramubyariye,” or "reka nzamubyarire akana maze twiyunge"!!
Again, excuse me? The child belongs to both parents. Parenthood is not a gift receipt that one party can return when the relationship expires. Women do not bear children *for* men. Men do not marry women *out of kindness.* People choose each other. People create families together. And both should carry the responsibilities that come with those choices.