What It’s Like To Get Married on Zoom
On
Unsha Bakker’s wedding day, the 27-year-old sat in front of her
computer, dressed in her mother’s red and gold wedding sari. The sari
wasn’t the wedding outfit she had in mind, but neither was her living
room as a venue. Her wedding had been planned for July with a venue,
vendors, and an imam nearly decided, but the couple had not foreseen the
pandemic. Bakker, who lives in Queens and works as a nurse at NYU, did
not want to wait. “We were like — if we wait a couple of months for this
to die down, who knows who will be affected by the virus?”
Eventually,
Bakker and her then-fiancé settled on an idea they’d seen around the
internet. What if they held their wedding virtually? Bakker tweezed her
own eyebrows and did her own makeup. They decorated their house with
hanging flowers and glitzy fabric. Then, they carefully examined each of
the 10 wedding guests before they were allowed into the house, checking
their temperatures and making sure they weren’t showing symptoms of the
novel coronavirus.
On Saturday night, 70 screens, including that of an officiant from California, tuned into Zoom for their nikkah,
the Muslim ceremony. It turned out that a virtual wedding isn’t so
different from an off-line wedding. Some people still showed up late.
Other older family members forgot to turn off their microphones. “I was
trying to see what girls were on the chat,” laughed Rafee Uddin, one of
the attendees, who streamed in with a suit on top, shorts on the bottom,
and whiskey in hand.
Long
after the wedding ended an hour and a half later, participants
lingered. Bakker and her husband went screen to screen, meeting their
wedding’s attendees, her husband’s extended family in Pakistan, Bakker’s
extended family in Bangladesh, college friends, relatives across the
United States. “I never knew I could feel so much love from a screen,”
Bakker said. “For that one hour, everyone thought the world was normal.”
As
Covid-19 has descended on the United States and forced people to stay
at home, trillions of dollars worth of events have been canceled — the
airline industry will lose $252 billion in revenue this year, restaurants will lose $25 billion
in sales, and nearly 20 million jobs might be lost by July. But
isolation hasn’t stopped people from finding new ways to meet up. Zoom
went from 10 million daily meeting participants in December 2019 to 200 million this March, and Google Meet added 2 million participants just last week. Online, people are holding classes, attending happy hours, closing deals — and getting married.
Over 160 screens — Malone estimates more than 300 people — tuned in to Malone’s wedding, with family members from Hawaii to the Philippines waking up early or staying up late to stream in.
“We
kept our hopes up and kept watching the news,” remembered Jennifer
Malone, 26, who got married on Zoom on March 18 after canceling the
venue, vendors, and makeup artist she had lined up for her April
wedding. “At first, it seemed social distancing rules would mean we’d
have less than 250 guests, then we saw the number go down to 50. Week by
week, our emotions went up and down. Eventually, two weeks ago it hit
10 and then we had shelter in place.”
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They
had a week to plan, but shops were closed and they had new hoops to
jump through. First, Malone and her fiancé realized they did not have
access to a wedding license, which meant they did not have an officiant.
Malone and her family had to do some quick thinking. They reached out
to a local clerk’s office and sped up the process for a marriage
license. “We realized that we could explain that we needed health
insurance, which is so important right now,” Malone remembered. “The
health insurance allowed them to make an exception for our case to be
expedited.”
From
that point, the duo had limited time. Malone had managed to get her
wedding dress out of the shop before shelter in place went into effect.
Her makeup artist Megan Johnson streamed in to give her guidance the
week before, and Malone practiced her makeup herself all week. “We kept
it at a simple red lip,” said Johnson. “She’s really good at that.” On
Thursday, they hit Trader Joe’s, picking up hydrangeas and roses for a
centerpiece, and ingredients for chocolate cupcakes and a vanilla marble
cake.
They
transformed their home into the venue, decorating it in fairy lights,
draping garlands around the staircase, and scattering it with white and
gold balloons. Her husband’s grandfather was the minister. “It became more intimate because we had to do it ourselves,” said Malone.
Over
160 screens — Malone estimates more than 300 people — tuned in to
Malone’s wedding, with family members from Hawaii to the Philippines
waking up early or staying up late to stream in. “We couldn’t invite as
many people to our original reception,” said Malone. “Friends and
families on our B and C list were able to come in.”
Some,
like Kirti Dwivedi, 42, who moved up her May wedding to celebrate at
the end of April, say they struggled with the ethics of celebrating
during a pandemic. “So many people are struggling, and so many of my
very good friends have lost their jobs,” explained Dwivedi. “I had to
think — how can I channel my wedding into something that I feel good
about?”
Dwivedi’s
first thought was to keep up the high spirits, so she hosted a virtual
bachelorette party with her friends across the country. She also plans
to collect $5 to $10 on Venmo from each of her wedding attendees to
donate to people who’ve lost jobs. “I still feel sad,” said Dwivedi.
“Even at the wedding, not hugging my own parents will be so hard. Not
having my family members near will be difficult.”
Online
weddings aren’t always the stuff of dreams — and definitely not during a
pandemic — which is a sentiment that all three echo. Malone’s parents
live in New Jersey and couldn’t drive down to Maryland; Bakker had
family friends who were skeptical that a Zoom wedding could be fun and
adhere to tradition. “I’m making stuff for my own mandap,” said Dwivedi, referring to the Hindu altar. “Who the hell does that?”
And
so, Malone is having another wedding in September. Bakker is planning
to hold her reception later this year. Dwivedi has spoken to her
original venue — her dream location — and postponed the date to the
fall. But for now, a choppy Zoom connection, low-resolution videos, and
an hour and a half spent with family and friends is more than enough.
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