Hey guys, waagwaan?

Last week I made a promise to post something every week to this publication, regardless of the format. I started the week looking to see if I could get another video out, and although I did film what I needed for that, editing it by the weekend wasn’t going to be possible. Then I started writing a supposedly simple ‘round-up’ with some videos that catalysed some deep thinking for me last month, but somehow that article ended up asking much more of me than I expected, too. Then, during family brunch this morning, this reflection on weddings that will be a part of my wedding website & album fell out of me so— here it is.

Disclaimer: We were lucky. Incredibly lucky. I’m sure a wedding like ours isn’t possible for everyone. Our family believed in the magic of the moment—especially my Popo and Daddy, who not only dreamt alongside us but powered the very foundation of the day with their planning, constructing, and funding. Without them, a wedding of that capacity would not have been possible and we would not have even embarked on the mission without their guidance and willing energy. But it wasn’t the money that made the experience so special and so even for those in different circumstances, I hope that you can find ways to facilitate a special moment in the wake of your love one day: something beautiful, something shared, something real.

💌 letters fr your soul's reflection 💌 intersectional musings on philosophy, culture, spirituality, love & self-actualisation. From the perspective of a polyglot, third-culture, ND 🧠, chronically-ill, mixed kid from Jamaica with dreams for a warmer world.

These days, it’s becoming less popular to have a wedding. And I get it. They’re expensive—sometimes obscenely so—and the return on investment isn’t exactly tangible. You spend months planning, coordinating, bickering, making, preparing… only to have a few hours of joy and, for many, a fat pile of debt once the music fades. Before getting married, I also didn’t think the wedding would make much of a difference. It shouldn’t right? After all, it’s just a party and a paper. What would that change?

Yet after having had one—after living through one—I have a stronger, renewed belief in the purpose and power of weddings. And not only weddings but big family reunions, barbecues, engagement parties, sweet 16s, and even funerals.

The event is so much more than a single day.

The wedding is much more than the day. I’ve come to see the preparation leading up to a wedding as an exercise in humanity and collective effort, which in today’s climate we need so much more of. It stretches us—it asks us to organise, to delegate, and to allow each person’s strengths to shine. All the work we poured in came to life before our eyes, and it reminded us what true love looks like. Not the kisses or the jewellery set, but the perseverance. It was the willingness to face inconvenience, expense, and frustration together to create something beautiful.

There were many moments when I was ready to go bridezilla on my family and support crew, and I’m sure just as many moments when they wished I was a little more proficient at my end of the work. It’s not easy to collaborate with so many moving pieces. There were friends who carried me, and friends who I had to drag. Plus, you’re not only working for free—you’re working at a loss. And yet, my parents, close friends and elders love us so much they showed up consistently for our special day—and for a special day for the whole family.

A wedding, I believe, is a great teacher of true love.

The real-life practice of loving each other enough to bring such a celebration into existence does more for you than any self-help book or YouTube video on emotional intelligence ever could.

It’s in the intergenerational dancing—grannies and toddlers wobbling together to old school hits and new school riddim. It’s in the quiet moments, like a cousin you haven’t seen in a decade slipping you a handwritten note. It’s in the spontaneous eruptions of laughter or someone’s questionable dance moves.

And it’s especially important for the children. These events are rare moments when the usual hierarchies blur. Kids get to see their parents laugh with their siblings, they see elders cry soft tears of joy, they feel the pulse of something ancient and human—being part of a clan, a community, a long line of love.

When I was a kid, every time I went to a wedding or big family reunion, I gained a deeper understanding of who I was—and who we were. I’d fall in love with my bigger cousins and get ideas about how to live a cool, fulfilling life. I’d meet Aunties I didn’t remember who told me they loved me anyway—and that changed my brain chemistry. I got to dance and be wild and silly with the adults. There was no bedtime, and no one telling me I was being too “extra,” “loud,” or “disruptive.”

I’d fall in love with the speeches. I’d get envious of the friendships I saw and feel inspired to become a better friend. These spaces give kids their feet.

At our wedding, my little cousin Alanna kept coming up to me throughout the night. No reason in particular—she just wanted to be near “Aunty and her husband.” I could feel her soaking up the love in the room like sunlight.

My little brother, eleven at the time, had sworn up and down that he didn’t like to dance. But at the height of the night, there he was—twisting and grooving with 60s-style flair, amazing us all.

I asked him about it later.

“I thought you didn’t like to dance?”

“I don’t—” he said quickly. Then paused. “Okay, maybe I do.”

Weddings (and big family events like them) crack open something tender in the heart of a family. They interrupt our everyday rhythms, push us out of our usual social bubbles, and throw us into shared purpose. Family that usually have negative things to say end up side by side, folding napkins or figuring out how to rig a speaker system. Aunties become DJs, cousins become bartenders, and everyone becomes some kind of stagehand in a story much bigger than just two people saying I do.

It’s not just about the couple—it’s about the collective memory being created.

That, to me, is the real value. The return that doesn’t show up in budgets or Pinterest boards. It’s the weaving back together of stories, the building of new ones, and the soft but powerful reminder that we are not meant to live these lives alone. The reminder that love is more powerful that whatever complaints that capture our day to day lives.

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The wedding turned out to be life-changing—not only for our guests, but also for us.

I was recently at dinner with two friends in London when one of them asked me, “So… how does it feel being married?” I paused, jaw slightly slack, unsure how to put into words everything that marriage had done for me. Before I could answer, she backtracked, “Oh well, I guess it’s not much different, right? It’s just paper.”

Honestly, just six months earlier, I might’ve said something similar. “It’s just a formality,” I used to think. But the truth is—it’s not. It was huge.

The preparation and emotional investment involved in getting married forced us to show up, to commit, to become a team. We started to understand what it meant to be a unit, what it meant to merge our lives. We fought a lot getting there. People began asking us big life questions, offering marriage advice and reflections of what they saw in us. We were being looked at differently—respected differently. And somewhere in that shift, the dynamic between us matured.

It’s been four months since, and our relationship is worlds healthier than it was pre-wedding. I could write an entire separate post about this—but to make a long story short, we’ve grown into a husband and wife in ways we couldn’t have imagined before. The change is subtle, yet total.

And I’m convinced it wouldn’t have happened so easily without standing, raw and vulnerable, in front of our family to say I do.

I can’t say if a wedding [traditional event] is right for you, or anyone else. But I wouldn’t discount it as a simple formality. It can be so much more if you let it.

I’d love to hear about your wedding opinions. Do you want a wedding? Why or why not?