I haven’t made real resolutions for 2012. But a few nights ago, I lay in my bed, tossing and turning thanks to West Coast jet lag, I promised myself that I should be more honest about my emotions and try to write them down more.
So here’s a start: my interracial relationship makes me feel anxious sometimes.
When I go to the Korean-run grocery stores with my boyfriend, I unconsciously start walking faster to be in front of him – rather than beside him – because I’m afraid the grocers will judge me for being with him. I am aware of how this makes me sound. But I am being honest – don’t worry, my boyfriend has already noticed made fun of me for this tendency.
I am afraid of my hypothetical children not knowing about their Korean heritage, or even worse, being ashamed of their Korean heritage, like I was for a long time in my teens. I am afraid of not being able to pass my culture or teach my children about their heritage in a meaningful way.
Of course, the above statement shows just how irrational and unfounded my shame is. My full-fledged “Korean-ness” did not mitigate the shame about my heritage. I am too embarrassed to count the times I wished my parents could make me a nice casserole and speak better English during my teen years.
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I remember the first time I felt the racial politics of dating. One of my old housemates in university had invited one of his friends over our shared house. He was a nice guy; we chatted a little, but I didn’t think much of it after. After this guy left, however, my housemate came up to me all smiley-faced and asked: “So? What did you think of [guy whose name I have now completely forgotten]?”
“…I don’t know? He’s nice?”
At this point I realized that what my housemate had in mind was match-making. Because this guy was Asian, I was Asian, and we both liked English lit! Actually, it wasn’t a bad guess, and I’m not blaming my former housemate for this at all. But it was definitely a moment where I recognized my racial difference demarcating my “dating territory,” per se.
Maybe I’ve internalized that moment in my mind too much. I do that. And I know how much of a burden this internalization has been to my very patient partner. I know I have acted unfairly against him because of my own mixed feelings. But I’m learning to get over my shame and learning to get over the propaganda about pure-bloodedness and the link between ethnicity and culture. I think about how hard I would have to work in order to communicate my own confused identity to my hypothetical future children no matter what. I think about how love was not born with a rational mind, but a need to have happiness in an intangible, incalculable way.
A friend recently said to me: “If you worry about everything, you’ll just be alone anyway.” And what good would being alone and paranoid do to furthering my culture and heritage, if that were the case?
Cristy
/ January 13, 2012I know that this is easier said than done, but if you came to like your boyfriend for who he is as a whole rather than what race he is or isn’t, that’s all that should matter. Love him and be happy, and best of luck navigating your relationship!
Pedram
/ January 18, 2012I too grew up ashamed of where I came from and relegated to that domain of things-I-would-never-care-for anything to do with my culture. I would stare down my mother for not being able to speak and understand English as well as I could — for not being able to have the same types of conversations the other kids had with their parents.
I don’t know much about loving people for who they are and not what they are nor could I speculate on the difference between the two. I’m also useless with advice on how to be less who you are and more who you want to be. But if there’s one thing I know is that there’s always some time left (or that I live as if there was), and I’ve slowly been reading more about Persian culture and mythology, and enjoying the presence rather than the speech of my mother.
yaeji
/ February 7, 2012Agreed and laughed.