I met him in college. His roommate was good friends with my roommate. It wasn't love at first sight or anything of that nature, but we eventually hit it off. We were young and dumb; our first hookup being the result of a drunken night. We began dating by the end of freshman year. At this point, we were both the same academic major and hung out with the same group of friends. We were friends, classmates, lovers. We were young.
I didn't think of the consequences. I didn't consider what would happen if we came to love each other. Not be in love with each other, but really love each other. After all, we were different. We both came from distinct cultures. But at this point in our lives, we were not Asian or Indian, yellow or brown, liberal or conservative; we were young, dumb teenagers. And we were falling in love.
The infatuation grew every day. We hung out with each other to the point that disgusted our friends. We watched television together, ate together, slept together and basically became each other. He came from a rich, successful suburban high school and was shockingly conservative in many ways. I grew up in a big metropolitan city and attended a liberal inner-city high school. Upon entering college, I was as liberal as it came. We were different in so many ways and yet we got along so well. Thank goodness for the infatuation of young love or we would not have tolerated each other long enough to see through our differences.
And I would like to say that we overcame our differences, but we never really did. We didn't ignore them, but we never overcame them either. Little by little, he convinced me to see things his way and I would try to convince him to see things my way. We never fully conceded to the other person, but we were always willing to listen. When we disagreed, we would debate and argue and then both concede just a little. (Or at least he would shut up long enough to let me feel like I've been heard.)
Love is a strange thing. If you love someone, you can accept their flaws - or at least pretend not to see them. And love can die down - or die completely. But the flaws? They'll still be there waiting.
Four years later, we are still together and we still love each other. The butterflies and obsessiveness is gone, but I still love him dearly and miss him whenever we are not together. We tell each other everything and have become perhaps a bit too comfortable with each other. There are no jokes that are off limits and almost no boundaries we wouldn't cross.
Things are different now though. We are grownups and the future is near. It isn't a distant place that we never have to visit. We want to get married, have children and grow old together. So we have to face our fears. We have to commit.
I have yet to tell my mom about our relationship. I don't know why. My mom has no problem with my choice of partner. I think she trusts my judgment. Maybe she doesn't trust hers. She is a goddess to me if there ever was one. My only fear is that my relationship won't work out and my mom will be heartbroken to know that I am heartbroken. Or maybe I am just shy. Or afraid. I don't know. It seems unfair of me to not tell her when I have been pushing him to tell.
And he told his parents only recently. They are very traditional - his dad especially. His parents imagine for him a traditional Indian housewife. They surely were not expecting a Vietnamese American girl with a strange mixture of eastern and western values. I have no money to pay the dowry they expect nor do I come from a perfect household. To outsiders, my house is broken and incomplete. For me, my home is the epitome of perfection. I have the most generous and loving mother in the world and the kindest brother to have graced the earth. But I don't expect anyone to be able to see that. Not even him.
He says his parents are giving me a chance. They would like to meet with me some time in the future. I am fearful and conflicted. His dad said he will give me a chance but he is actively in search of the perfect wife from India right now. He is asking his relatives for recommendations of beautiful girls. I feel so much anger and resentment towards his dad. He loves his parents too much to see how his dad's actions are causing me to feel distant. I love him, not his family. I don't even know them yet. I want to love them as he wants me to, but I fear that any true connection will be difficult. It's not that I don't understand their fears. Every parent wants what is best for their children. They think that they can make the better decision and find him the better wife. And who is to say they won't?
I know I have to be the strongest person that I can be if I want to win his parents' approval - but I also have many doubts. I am less young and stupid then when we first met, but I am still stupid. I wonder if I can handle the stress of an interracial relationship like this. I wonder if he could. It is more than the struggles with his parents.
It is us.
It is other people's opinions. It is our children's future. Sometimes I think I don't want to fight a losing battle. I want to make sure there is a chance of survival before I step into the battlefield. Perhaps that is why I have yet to tell my mom about us. I am a coward in many ways. The worst of it all is that I am afraid that we are both cowards, too weak to lean on and to support each other. I wonder if he could stand by my side if I really needed him. I have a fear that he will not. And if he does? There is still the fear that I will tear his family apart. And I can't build my family by destroying his.
I didn't think of the consequences. I didn't consider what would happen if we came to love each other. Not be in love with each other, but really love each other. After all, we were different. We both came from distinct cultures. But at this point in our lives, we were not Asian or Indian, yellow or brown, liberal or conservative; we were young, dumb teenagers. And we were falling in love.
The infatuation grew every day. We hung out with each other to the point that disgusted our friends. We watched television together, ate together, slept together and basically became each other. He came from a rich, successful suburban high school and was shockingly conservative in many ways. I grew up in a big metropolitan city and attended a liberal inner-city high school. Upon entering college, I was as liberal as it came. We were different in so many ways and yet we got along so well. Thank goodness for the infatuation of young love or we would not have tolerated each other long enough to see through our differences.
And I would like to say that we overcame our differences, but we never really did. We didn't ignore them, but we never overcame them either. Little by little, he convinced me to see things his way and I would try to convince him to see things my way. We never fully conceded to the other person, but we were always willing to listen. When we disagreed, we would debate and argue and then both concede just a little. (Or at least he would shut up long enough to let me feel like I've been heard.)
Love is a strange thing. If you love someone, you can accept their flaws - or at least pretend not to see them. And love can die down - or die completely. But the flaws? They'll still be there waiting.
Four years later, we are still together and we still love each other. The butterflies and obsessiveness is gone, but I still love him dearly and miss him whenever we are not together. We tell each other everything and have become perhaps a bit too comfortable with each other. There are no jokes that are off limits and almost no boundaries we wouldn't cross.
Things are different now though. We are grownups and the future is near. It isn't a distant place that we never have to visit. We want to get married, have children and grow old together. So we have to face our fears. We have to commit.
I have yet to tell my mom about our relationship. I don't know why. My mom has no problem with my choice of partner. I think she trusts my judgment. Maybe she doesn't trust hers. She is a goddess to me if there ever was one. My only fear is that my relationship won't work out and my mom will be heartbroken to know that I am heartbroken. Or maybe I am just shy. Or afraid. I don't know. It seems unfair of me to not tell her when I have been pushing him to tell.
And he told his parents only recently. They are very traditional - his dad especially. His parents imagine for him a traditional Indian housewife. They surely were not expecting a Vietnamese American girl with a strange mixture of eastern and western values. I have no money to pay the dowry they expect nor do I come from a perfect household. To outsiders, my house is broken and incomplete. For me, my home is the epitome of perfection. I have the most generous and loving mother in the world and the kindest brother to have graced the earth. But I don't expect anyone to be able to see that. Not even him.
He says his parents are giving me a chance. They would like to meet with me some time in the future. I am fearful and conflicted. His dad said he will give me a chance but he is actively in search of the perfect wife from India right now. He is asking his relatives for recommendations of beautiful girls. I feel so much anger and resentment towards his dad. He loves his parents too much to see how his dad's actions are causing me to feel distant. I love him, not his family. I don't even know them yet. I want to love them as he wants me to, but I fear that any true connection will be difficult. It's not that I don't understand their fears. Every parent wants what is best for their children. They think that they can make the better decision and find him the better wife. And who is to say they won't?
I know I have to be the strongest person that I can be if I want to win his parents' approval - but I also have many doubts. I am less young and stupid then when we first met, but I am still stupid. I wonder if I can handle the stress of an interracial relationship like this. I wonder if he could. It is more than the struggles with his parents.
It is us.
It is other people's opinions. It is our children's future. Sometimes I think I don't want to fight a losing battle. I want to make sure there is a chance of survival before I step into the battlefield. Perhaps that is why I have yet to tell my mom about us. I am a coward in many ways. The worst of it all is that I am afraid that we are both cowards, too weak to lean on and to support each other. I wonder if he could stand by my side if I really needed him. I have a fear that he will not. And if he does? There is still the fear that I will tear his family apart. And I can't build my family by destroying his.
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