“Sophia, I know what this sounds like, but trust me, relationships are in a constant state of becoming,” said Boy while pouring himself a glass and getting awfully close. “Essentially, they’re only what you make them out to be,” he carries on, but I’m not listening.
The idea that a relationship is this ever-changing entity really appeals to me, because lately, I’ve been seeing them everywhere.
It could be the start of the school year and seeing all the new couples, the fact that Katie Holmes has been taking over my Facebook newsfeed, or the realization that I’m roughly five months single and getting a gameday date is not as easy as it was freshman year.
The way I see it, there’s the relationship world and the single world on campus, both two separate communities.
In relationship world, you stay with your boyfriend and his best friend, who’s also dating your best friend, and you guys can watch movies and choke on popcorn. In single world, you call up all your always-single girlfriends and go to dinner, some pregame the cute Phi Gam in your class invited you to, and then Red Shed.
But, what if you’re newly single? From what I’ve observed, it’s a witch hunt for a man, but that doesn’t necessarily seem like the best option. What if I don’t really want a man? What if I do? Does that make me a slut? Totes slut.
So, I confided in the only man I knew I could, Victor Turner. As a British cultural anthropologist specializing in symbolic and interpretive anthropology and the author of “A Ritual Process,” Turner has a way of compartmentalizing relationships.
To him, this state of ambiguity for the newly single could be described as “the realm of the liminal,” or a period of transition. According to Turner, you’re betwixt and between two worlds: the single world and the relationship world.
The liminal state is a process of self-removal. For me, it was spending the summer doing an archaeological dig at Moundville for eight hours a day. For my dear friend, it was becoming Facebook unofficial, having one too many glasses of bad wine, and sucking face for 20 minutes.
Regardless of how you choose to spend your time, the idea is still the same. The betwixt and between are within a group that intimidate others. Relationship friends don’t understand your need to be single, your sadness or even your gosh darn excitement; but your single friends don’t trust that you’ll stay single, and that’s a problem.
Within the Malay culture of Polynesia, divorced or widowed woman are given the negative connotation of being a “J” or a “Janda.” These women are not virgins, and yet they aren’t married. The Janda are scrutinized and have even been considered vampires in Malay folklore.
Where do the betwixt and between belong here?
According to Turner, they don’t. The reason is those who are betwixt and between don’t belong within the community in which they are, and in order to join a new one, they must undergo the experience of liminality.
So, to me, a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, some lonely nights and Wine Wednesday at Gallettes seems like the perfect remedy.
It’s okay to feel alone and confused for a while. However, that doesn’t mean we need to jump into the next relationship that comes along to be happy or even deprive ourselves of someone else’s support and care.
As an independent young adult, I find myself completely contented with being a little betwixt and definitely in-between.
Sophia Fazal is a senior majoring in anthropology. Her column runs biweekly on Wednesday.
