Just a bride emoji as ‘profession’ for girls?

An apparent protest behind the “bride with veil” emoji, intimating as the only dream goal for girls, seems to have struck a profound chord with millions having clicked on the ‘Like’ button of the new video campaign “to empower girls” at #LikeAGirl, which Procter&Gamble’s Always brand launched last year. 

Curious, I accessed emojipedia, and browsed through the gallery of emojis—“a small digital image or icon used to express an idea, emotion, etc. in electronic communication”—and, oh my, discovered how the old smiley we used to insert in quick notes, or drew on our thumbs to make a baby smile, has mutated into a manifold of mimics not only of our persona, but also of our emotions, even our secret desires. Near bottom of my scrolling, the unattractive bride showed up.

While I think of it merely as a representation, I understand why the unseemly portrait has prompted conversations on the absence of emojis for professions or, as one girl in the video quipped, “unless being a bride is considered one.” Why not, indeed, an austronaut, engineer, banker, industrialist, or a ‘techie’ like the girl-genius who can break codes and track down suspects within seconds with her beringed fingers click-clacketing on a keyboard in a slew of crime-busting TV series these days?

Aware that they could be my granddaughters or even farther back, I thought I would keep this novel cause to myself until with Doris on the #10 Bus, our usual weather bulletin veered toward that dream-future, into which like them, we, our mothers and theirs have been pegged. While Doris and I believe there’s really no escaping the archetype for girls, we backtracked, musing if it had wielded any power over us—what a thrill to know it didn’t, as she stayed single while I took long to get married.

Of course, most women of past generations surrendered to it fast (in truth, even now) but in the end busted the myth: “Prince Charming would give you status, prestige, pretensions and make life for you.” Soon steeped in reality, they sank but emerged single again and iron-clad. For instance, with some fairy tale endings, more of the true stories from 76 recordings for “Mythogyny,” an anthology of women elders living alone on low income in British Columbia, wherein I participated as member of WE*ACT (Women Elders in Action), unravel weighty transformations like Colleen’s.

Like most girls her time, Colleen got swept easily by her prince, who turned out to be “a frog,” whose every claim to own this and that, worked here and there, peeled off as lies. Forced to take on double jobs when he stopped working after an injury and as the children outgrew their toys, Colleen had thought life would normalize in time—he rooted instead in his stay-at-home role, even had flings during trips while his wife worked. After five years of fighting her for custody of the children, hence, alimony, so he wouldn’t work for life, he actually won the landmark divorce case, because as the judge ruled, Colleen allowed him dependency on her as provider. Dredged of energy with not a droplet of love, Colleen just unloaded all she had worked for.

Behind the bridal veil, indeed, lies the wonders of a dreamt-of life, which Beth thought she had, including a mother-in-law, who seemed doting at first, but turned out to be simply a snoop, suffocating her in the end. What about Greetje’s tall, dark and handsome prince, who she realized mornings later to be a hermit—didn’t talk and would rather be by himself? And Inge, who, one day with her children having jobs, woke up not knowing what a career meant?

I suppose if the girls protesting against the bride-only as career emoji had not heard of such stories, they must have reacted from instinct, but judging by their passion, sense it’s really a kind of ceaseless lifetime work.