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Of Race and Relationships

When I was a freshman in high school, my mom had this to say about relationships and dating: “You really shouldn’t date in high school, because you need to focus on studying. But if you do find someone you like, it would be better if he was Chinese and he could speak Cantonese.” For my parents, it was always a given that their daughter was a heterosexual girl who would get good grades in high school, go to a good college, get a major in some practical and useful field, get a stable job that made a lot of money, and somewhere along the way find a nice, Chinese boy to date, marry, and eventually raise children with.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that vision, but I realized early on it just wasn’t my dream.

There are many fundamental differences in the way that my parents think and the way that I think, not the least of which are my ambitions to become a published author, to travel widely (through my work, as well as for leisure), to work in a non-profit working for the improvement of literacy in the community through education and reading programs, and to work in education administration. I have too many dreams that they don’t agree with or think are “just a phase,” too many dreams that aren’t practical or stable enough to satisfy their hopes that I have a happy and successful life.

One thing that’s never been in contention was finding a “nice Chinese boy” to date. That, of course, has come about more because I didn’t date, period; but now that I have found someone that I like, I have a curious problem:

How do I tell my parents that my significant other is older than they would like, is more American than they would like, doesn’t share their culture or language or tastes in cuisine, and is altogether someone that doesn’t at all fit their requirements as a fitting match for their youngest child?

Being in any relationship is hard work. In a relationship where my parents are fundamentally opposed to the match not just as overprotective parents (and I say that in the most affectionate way possible), but because of cultural differences, the difficulties pile up in spades. There are other moments, too, when a question from my boyfriend makes me realize that for him, “Chinese” is Panda Express, Chinese New Year, a Communist country across the Pacific ocean, and a written language that looks more like art than it does actual a language. Things that are commonplace in my life, things that I take for granted – being with him makes me marvel at just how different we are, and has truly made me appreciate and embrace my Chinese and Chinese-American identity even more.

I am Chinese and Chinese-American. I am a second-generation Asian-American. I am a scholar, a soon-to-be UCSD graduate with a degree in International Studies, and a student leader. I am a daughter, sister, and American cousin. I am a dreamer, a reader, a gamer, a writer and aspiring author.  I am a young heterosexual, bisexual woman. These are my changing and growing identities as an individual – and as of last September, I am also the happy Chinese girlfriend of an awesome American boyfriend.

Good evening, OA readers. My name is Yvonne. I’ve learned a lot about myself, American culture, my relationship with my parents, and my relationship with my boyfriend through having a significant other who does not share my cultural heritage. Most people would call that an interracial relationship; me, I call it a relationship.

I hope to share my thoughts and experiences from being in an interracial relationship with you all, and I hope you can share yours as well. Thank you for reading, and I hope we can meet again next week.

Written By: Yvonne Law
Editorial Intern for TheOtherAsians
Where to find Yvonne: Tumblr | Wordpress