Tomorrow, I will wear black for the tenth year in a row, in silent protest of an over-commercialized celebration of a barbaric, antiquated, pagan fertility ritual.
Yes, it sounds overdramatic, I know. But after ten years, I still hold firm to my feelings about the most unholy of holidays, the time of red and pink everywhere (while, any other day of the year, that would be considered a clashy fashion faux pas), the favorite season of the chocolatiers and greeting card companies.
Truth be told, most people are miserable on Valentine's Day. You have your singles (I of which was one when my tradition of protest began years ago, more specifically of the "single bitter misery chick" genre) who are forced to sit and watch the "happy couples" strolling by, staring deeply into each other's eyes and whatnot. But it's not just them. I've always felt bad for men on Valentine's. I've actually read studies that showed men in particular experience tangible signs of high anxiety levels when placed in retail situations (in short, shopping can literally make them go nuts). Let's cash in on that by creating a holiday atmosphere that requires them to purchase many things to prove their love, right? Jack up the prices on everything applicable to the holiday; they won't even look at the price tag because they'll be so anxious to get out of the store. Grab some chocolates here, a sweet card there, flowers at the next place, jewelry, clothes, and of course, don't forget to save some money for the dinner date (and movie, or whatever else after dinner). They'll have cashed out a few hundred each before they even know what hit 'em. Sounds pretty sweet if you're a manufacturer/retailer of these products, right? But if you're the one emptying his wallet, no, not so much. So there's a small percentage left on this day that are happy--females who have dates. And I'm guessing about half of them end up finding fault in something--he got the wrong kind of chocolates, or the card doesn't express how she thinks he should truly feel, or some such nonsense.
As usual, America has managed to commercialize and monetize a holiday older than our country (think: Christmas, Easter, Halloween). But where do Valentine's Day traditions come from? What was the holiday originally about?
The Roman fertility festival of Lupercalia was held February 15. This marked the beginning of springtime in that era and location; spring, as we know, is associated with life and birth and, it would naturally follow, fertility (think: bunnies). This date (and the day before it, our Valentine’s Day) was also believed to be the date birds chose their mates, and why not follow the birds?
One of the more common themes in the variations of this celebration over the years included young men running through the town swinging “sacred” goatskin cuttings, and the young women on the sidewalks “lucky” enough to be touched (or rather, lashed) by the sacred skins would be blessed with many children. (Fun fact: the skin item was called a “februa,” and the Latin word for lashing with these items was called “februatio”—see a similarity to “February” here?) Soooo, beat your women and get babies. Great thing to be celebrating.
When Rome invaded France, they brought along their traditions and festivals, including Lupercalia (which, at that time, consisted mostly of the men drawing women’s names to determine who was their Valentine, and exchanging gifts at the festival). However, around 469, the Pope of the day decided to Christianize this pagan festival and rewrite its history. From henceforth, Lupercalia would be the festival of St. Valentine, a Roman martyr who quite conveniently was put to death on Feb. 14, 270. As luck would have it, Mr. Valentine was put to death by the emperor because, after the emperor banned marriages (because of the tendency of married soldiers to lose their focus on the whole fighting thing), Valentine had been performing marriage ceremonies in secret for young people who were in love! How romantic! But the even more coincidental part of the story was that Valentine fell in love with his jailor’s daughter (who was blind, and he cured her of that, but that’s another saint story for another day) and wrote her a note on execution day signed, “From your Valentine.” Some legends say this was scratched into a leaf shaped like a heart, which makes it even better. That's why love notes or gifts on this day came to be known as "Valentines," thanks to St. Valentine's legendary story. Awwwww.
I opted out of all this business ten years ago. My friends and I wore black in 2001, and I've done it every Feb. 14 since. I've been happily married for five of these Feb. 14's, and my plans on this day still don't involve celebration of the holiday. I don't plan for that to change.
So, who will join me this year in wearing black? :)
