What a dreary week it’s been for me. I caught the flu last Thursday (the worst possible kind, with body aches and zero energy), which kept me holed up bed for three days straight. It also rained nonstop during that time, a downpour of almost Biblical proportions that ended up flooding my favorite trails in the wetlands park nearby. And on Monday, just when I thought I was getting over the flu, I lost my voice completely. That’s right, I can’t talk a single word! That led to a trip to the hospital with a rather unpleasant experience of having a doctor shove a rod with a camera on it into my throat (everything is fine – just need to take some medicine and finish a round of vapor therapy). Oh, and did I mention that the blissful summery temperatures we were enjoying last week have dipped back into wintery territory once again?
Yep, that kind of week.
It’s times like this when I turn to a good story for a little escape – the chance to slip into another world and forget about my troubles for a while. Especially if it’s an easy, breezy love story like The Reluctant Brides of Lily Court Lane, which reads like one of my favorite romantic comedies on the screen.
Susan Chan, along with her co-author Carol Polakoff, have woven together a delightfully relaxing romance novel with many different interwoven love stories set in San Diego, California (almost like the movie “Love, Actually”). Even better, one of those love stories is about a young AMWF couple (I think it’s the best in the novel!). Given that Susan’s husband is Chinese, I’m not surprised she’d want to share a story reflecting her own experiences. The book also draws upon her Jewish heritage with a story about a Holocaust survivor and the mystery of a missing family painting.
This is a perfect book for the beach, travel, or (if you’re like me) a little escape from the ordinary.
Susan was born to immigrant parents, grew up in New York City, and attended local public schools. After graduating from the High School of Music and Art as an art major, she earned her Bachelor’s degree from the City College of New York and a Master’s from New York University. She taught high school Social Studies for a number of years and then changed career paths. She obtained her Masters and Professional Diploma in Guidance and Counseling from Fordham University and became a high school guidance counselor.
She has been married to her husband Jay for 44 years and blessed with two children and one grandson (as of now). As an interracial couple they faced many challenges but their marriage has lasted because they have been guided by two principles – don’t sweat the small stuff and don’t go to sleep mad.
I asked Susan about how she came up with the AMWF couple in the story, her motivation for writing about a Jewish Holocaust survivor, and what it was like dating her husband in the 1960s.
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What inspired you and your partner to come up with this idea of a community at Lily Court Lane with all of these interwoven romance stories?
I’m a collector of stories. I seem to have a personality that encourages others to confide in me or at the very least share their stories. My mother had the same quality and she’d laugh when she said I seem to wear a sign across my chest saying tell me your problems. I guess that’s also what caused me to enter my chosen profession as a high school guidance counselor. The reason I mention this is because the stories in the book are based on events which happened to people I know. That’s why they have the ring of truth about them.
As you can imagine, my favorite couple in the story is Ming, a Chinese-American guy who works at the coffee shop in the community, and Cindy, a “wild child” kind of woman with purple-dyed hair and a nose ring who helps at the local bakery. Could you talk about how you came up with these characters and their storyline?
Ming and Cindy are the interracial couple I wish my husband and I could have been. While true that his mother opposes Cindy at first because she’s not Chinese, she comes to accept her and eventually love her like a daughter. I never had that opportunity as my husband’s mother died when he was very young and his family never really reconciled themselves to our marriage. Cindy’s neighbors view her relationship with Ming as “normal” and never interfere. Everyone, including strangers, felt they had the right to express their opposition to my marriage. I was even asked at work if I really wanted to change my last name to my married name. Most people tend to focus on the outward differences in a person such as the shape of an eye, the texture of hair.
There’s also a very fascinating story woven throughout the book about a Jewish woman whose family lost a rather valuable painting during World War II. Could you talk about what motivated you to put this into the story?
My father never really wanted to talk about his family. I guess he experienced survivor’s guilt. He was the only one in his family to survive the Holocaust because he’d immigrated to America. I grew up knowing about the Holocaust, which not everyone today learns about, but millions of deaths cannot be easily grasped. When as a youngster I read “The Diary of Anne Frank,” it became clear how the story of one person can affect a multitude. Usually the Holocaust is reduced to numbers; I wanted to put a human face on it.
What do you hope people come away with from reading this novel?
First and foremost, that they spent a pleasant few hours reading about people they’d like to be friends with. Corny though it sounds, I believe human beings, whatever their differences, have one thing in common – the need for love. I wanted to give my readers an opportunity to escape to a world filled with love and happy endings – as can be found on Lily Court Lane, a fictional street in sunny San Diego CA.
What are you working on next?
I’m working on Book 2 in the series-The Women of Lily Court Lane. The working title of the book is “Lies of Omission.” The reader will learn how Cindy is unexpectedly united with her birth family, Dallas resolves her problems with Simon and Carolee seems to find love with a handsome man she meets on the beach. There’s been such a positive and encouraging response to Cindy’s romance with Ming that I plan to delve more deeply into his cultural background.
Interracial and cross cultural couples were pretty rare when you and your husband were dating or first married. Did you happen to meet any others back then?
No, never. Back in the day (the 1960’s-70’s), interracial couples were usually Asian women with white men who were most often military men bringing home a bride from their deployment. Although it wasn’t favored by the general population, it was more or less accepted. But it was not at all accepted for white women.
A reader working on a fantastic new Chinese language learning game — which has a white girl with Asian male love interests in it — needs beta testers! It’s available on Windows, Mac, Linux and Android. Here’s the description for the demo:
It’s Chinese New Year! And we’re celebrating the year of the Yang (sheep) with the first short game of Kaitlyn in Chinaland.
When the self-consumed, all-American prom queen wannabe Kaitlyn gets sent to China as a punishment, she must navigate the waters of the language, the culture shocks… and the boys.
It’s a West meets East romantic comedy about some of the pitfalls of living in China and struggling to belong.
In this short spin-off game you’ll meet the characters of the upcoming Kaitlyn in Chinaland game to learn some Chinese words, celebrate New Year and maybe find sheep along the way.
The other night, I was on Facebook when I discovered a message in my inbox from a friend: “Jocelyn, you should do a blog about Steven Yeun….All the fans are really concerned about Steven Yeun’s character on the TV show.”
He meant, of course, “The Walking Dead” – one of the most popular TV shows in America.
Sure enough, I headed over to the Facebook page for “The Walking Dead,” and here’s what I discovered:
Now, I’m embarrassed to admit I don’t actually watch this show. There’s a good reason for that – I’m incredibly sensitive to violence and, according to everything I’ve heard and read about this show, it’s full of lots of bloody, gory and frightening scenes. The kind of things guaranteed to give me nightmares. (You should have seen me years ago after I watched the Tom Cruise reboot of “War of the Worlds” – I had trouble sleeping for days!)
Glenn is a new class of Asian American character, one that I’m not sure we’ve seen on-screen before.
Unlike previous Asian American characters, Glenn is at once Asian American and incidentally Asian American. Conspicuous among other Asian American characters, Glenn’s racial background does not define or justify his presence. He’s not the computer whiz, the scientist, the intellectual, the geek, the doctor, the technician, or a host of other stereotypical roles typically relegated to the Asian token. Although it is implied that Glenn’s parents were strict, Glenn himself was a pizza boy prior to the zombie apocalypse and assumes the role of forager and fighter — not “medic” or “ninja,” two roles that might be stereotypically Asian yet fulfilled by other members of the group. In short, there’s almost nothing inherently stereotypical about Glenn and his presence in The Walking Dead.
Yeun’s amiable nature is familiar to fans of AMC’s hit zombie series. As Glenn Rhee, he functions as a likable everyman, the closest thing to a romantic hero in an unrelentingly brutal apocalyptic world.
“Steven is the heart of the show,” said Glen Mazzara, the “Walking Dead” executive producer who’s set to leave the series at the end of this season. “Everybody loves that character; everybody’s rooting for that character. He may be tortured and sensitive, but he’s always a hero.”
Of course, I haven’t even mentioned the biggest reason that draws many of you to “The Walking Dead” – his relationship with Maggie, a white Southern Belle.
In the second season, Glenn matured and gained a greater self-confidence, but more importantly, he found love with fellow survivor Maggie (Lauren Cohan). And if it’s rare to see an Asian male engaged in anything romantic or sex-related on American television, it’s even rarer to see him in a nuanced relationship that develops over time. Yes, it’s cool to see a brotha getting to knock boots with a hot white chick, but what’s even cooler is to see that coupling grow into the romantic heart of the series.
Yep, he’s your average Joe who shows courage AND gets the girl. And he just happens to be Asian. For a TV show, this is totally revolutionary.
Steven Yeun as Glenn on “The Walking Dead” – the most-watched drama series ever broadcast on American cable – proves that when you let Asian men step outside of the stereotypes to play great characters who are fascinating, nuanced and real to life, the public will watch.
That’s why we need Steven Yeun out there, playing Glenn to the very end of “The Walking Dead.” That’s why Glenn cannot die! You’re not just killing the heart and soul of the show; you’re killing, as YOMYOMF calls him, the “Most Interesting Asian Male Character on American Television.”
I don’t even watch the show and just the thought of this character getting killed off makes me feel totally outraged!
When AMC broadcasts their season finale for “The Walking Dead,” I’ll be on the Beijing subway, heading for the Beijing South Railway Station – the start of my journey back to Hangzhou (I’ve been in Beijing this past weekend to help promote How Does One Dress to Buy Dragonfruit). But I can guarantee you, when the clock strikes 9am Beijing time (which is also 9pm Eastern time in the US, the start of 90-minute season finale), I’ll be silently wishing and praying that Glenn survives to the next season.
Sometimes, when I think about how I grew up in a very average, very white, very Midwestern suburb in the US, never dreaming that I would eventually find my future husband and a totally new life in China, it blows my mind that here I am in Hangzhou. And yet, at the same time I firmly believe (like many of my husband’s friends) that destiny had a role — that somehow, this was all meant to be.
That’s why I love this guest post from Constance, who blogs at Foreign Sanctuary and writes today about how her unlikely journey to Taiwan (where she met her Taiwanese husband) was anything but an accident. (Enjoy the striking photos as well, a delightful sampling of Constance’s own photography.)
If someone had to tell me twenty years ago that I would be living in Taiwan and married to a Taiwanese man, I would have laughed in their face and then, well, I would have probably grabbed my atlas, turned to Asia, and then tried to find the location of where most of my childhood toys were made. Yes, that was probably the extent of my knowledge of Taiwan when I was little – a far away place where people hammered and sewed and assembled the toys that I played with and then stamped ‘Made in Taiwan’ somewhere on the box or toy.
A Selfie with the Chinese New Year Decor
Fast forward to now and I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. If it wasn’t for that casual conversation with friends over a glass (or two) of wine one cold night in January of 1999, I would have never considered teaching in Asia.The thought never, ever crossed my mind until that point in time.
One of my favorite pictures of us – Paris, France
My fortitude and tenacity was tested to the max when it took me nearly an entire week to get to Taiwan, a nightmare that I recently relived while writing my book. I thought about giving up on my dream to move to Asia so many times that week and if it wasn’t for my recruiter, who gave me the extra reassurance that everything was going to be OK, I probably would be in living and working somewhere in Canada right now.
Hiking in Canada
My thirst for adventure and for experiencing new things led me to sign a third contract at the school where I worked at, which extended my time in Taiwan for one more year. And if it wasn’t for that, I wouldn’t have been out celebrating with a group of friends the night my husband literally danced into my life. However, if it wasn’t for his quick thinking and cleverness, he would have not gotten my number that night and we would not be together right now.
2014 Taiwan Lantern Festival
Four years later, my husband and I decided to get married. I always knew he was one (nearly) right from the beginning. We shared the same interests such as travel, we had so much fun together, and he always gave me ‘that feeling’ which never dwindled with time. When the newness of the relationship wore off, the feeling of ‘puppy love’ was still there. I was and still am a better person because of him. He is an optimist who dares me to take chances and to dream bigger. I am a realist who keeps him grounded (with regards to certain things). We complement each other. We are better people because of our relationship and each other. We may have grown up on different sides of the world but that makes life interesting.
Sun Setting over Alishan, Taiwan
On June 10, 2005, four years to the exact date that we met, we got married at the court.According to the lunar calendar, it was a perfect day. Probably too perfect! It was definitely a wedding to remember, all for the wrong reasons. Luckily, we had our Canadian church wedding and reception a few months later which was perfect – well, except for me putting the ring on the wrong finger. Plus, we had our reception in Taiwan where we celebrated with our closest friends.
The Beautiful Beach on Jibei [one of the many islands that comprise Penghu off the coast of Taiwan]Then, we come to the house which we actually purchased three months prior to completion. If it wasn’t for a series of events, this house that we bought over five year ago wouldn’t have been ours. It was the first house we looked at. My husband knew it was the one but I wanted to look at more. It was actually purchased by our neighbor who opted to buy another one. And if it wasn’t been for the poor state of the economy at the time, it would have been sold immediately at a higher price. The house was meant to be ours.
Constance
Which brings me to now! If it wasn’t for that heartbreaking news that shook me to the core and tested my hope and strength two years ago this month, but had a happy ending, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. That incident reminds me each and every day of all the good in my life and to appreciate the now, the present!
That is why I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason.
Constance is a Canadian expat who currently calls Taiwan home. She blogs about her travel experiences as well as her personal reflections about expat and married life on her blog, Foreign Sanctuary. Photography is one of her passions and she shares photos from her [Photographing 2015] project daily on her Facebook page. She is also an aspiring writer with a memoir in the works.
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Leslie, the white Canadian woman who is also the author of the delicious blog Korea in my Kitchen, is married to a Korean man and raising her beautiful multicultural family in one of my favorite cities in the world — Vancouver, Canada. In this lovely guest post, she comments on the benefits and challenges of raising kids in a multicultural environment (and also shares some of her fantastic recipes, including one for my favorite Korean dish, bibimbap!).
The biggest culture shock for my four kids this past year when we went to Korea to visit my husband’s family was that people noticed them. Old people would rub their heads at the stop light, or touch their cheeks as they passed by. People constantly commented and touched them. We think all our mixed kids look very Korean; apparently, not to Koreans. 🙂
In Korea with their grandmother, Halmoni
We are fortunate to live in Vancouver, Canada, a very multicultural city with people from all over the world. When we are out and about, people don’t notice us as a mixed family. It was one of the things that struck my husband and me the most when we originally came back from Korea where we were used to being noticed all the time. We loved how we were just normal.
If people comment on the kids it is usually just out of curiosity or kindness. We don’t get any negative comments. Some comments are awkward, but not rude.
When people do ask, I get the usual questions:
“What is your husband’s nationality?”
“Where is your husband from?”
I have even had people ask me,
“Where did you adopt your kids from?”
Honestly, the most common thing people say is,
“Oh, your kids are cute!”
To which I smile and say thank you.
One of the challenges raising mixed kids in such a culturally diverse place is that they lose touch with their own culture. My husband immigrated to Canada from Korea when he was thirty. He is very Korean; he is Korean-Korean. But because we are so normal here in Vancouver, it would be easy to let go of his culture and raise our family simply as Canadian. As the mother, I have had the opportunity to spend lots of time with the children in their early formative years. Unfortunately, my Korean is not very strong and we need to make a consorted effort to teach them Korean; it is called a mother tongue for a reason. Likewise, I love to cook and culture is very much tied to food. Luckily, I really enjoy cooking Korean food and we eat it often. So the difficulty we face, actually is to retain culture and for our children to know and appreciate their ‘Korean-ness’.
Nyles’ first birthday – Dol
As a result, in our family, we celebrate our collage of cultures. We embrace Korean culture and nationality. We eat Korean food, celebrate the holidays and stumble through learning the language. The kids save up money to go back to Korea to see their grandmother and beg to watch Korean dramas. For dinner, bibimbap and kimbap are the most requested menu items!
My parents are immigrants from Holland and I grew up in a Dutch Canadian community. Likewise, we have our little Dutch cultural things that we hold on to, certain foods and expressions and I try to pass those on to the kids too. They proudly wear their Holland shirts and gobble down ‘double zout droppies’, those really salty Dutch black licorice.
And of course, our children are Canadian. They proudly sing the national anthem and wave the maple leaf on July 1st. Here, in this country where they celebrate being a cultural mosaic, we get to pick and choose the best parts of all three cultures.
Ultimately, we just try to be ourselves.
Leslie writes about easy Korean cooking, kids and culture and shares comics about her life with her Korean husband and four crazy kids at www.koreainmykitchen.com.
—– Speaking of China is always on the lookout for outstanding guest posts! If you have something you’d like us to feature, visit the submit a post page for details — and then submit yours today.
When you’re raising biracial and bicultural kids, you’re bound to have some interesting conversations with them about identity. That’s the case for Susan Chan, author of The Reluctant Brides of Lily Court Lane, who recalls an incident with her daughter, after the little girl told another child about her background. Her daughter said, “Well, I told him, ‘I’m American, I’m Jewish and I’m Chinese. But he kept saying you can’t be three things.”
Read on to find out what happened – and thanks so much to Susan for sharing!
Do you have a fascinating story that you’d like to share here on Speaking of China? We welcome a variety of guest posts – including love stories, posts about having/raising biracial kids, biracial identity stories, and anything else that falls within the realm of this blog. Check out the submit a post page to learn how to get your writing published here!
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(Photo by Phalinn Ooi via Flickr.com)
April is an iffy day in New York City-blustery one day and spring-like the next. The morning of April 29, 1989 dawned clear and bright for the Chan family. We were all dressed hours before we needed to be, each of us sporting a touch of red-a lucky Chinese color. Leah had gotten up early every morning for months to practice her speech and now she was prepared and eager to start.
Arriving early at the Temple for Leah’s Bat Mitzvah, we greeted each person as they arrived. It was a serious moment and as her mom, I held my breath, waiting for her to begin. Seated next to her Chinese father, and her younger brother, I held back my tears of pride. We watched her carry out her part in the religious ceremony and then it came time for her personal speech.
I watched my child, now blossoming into a young lady, speak seriously of becoming an adult, as she gave recognition to her cultural and religious background. The years melted away and I recalled an incident that had happened when Leah was a child, probably four or five. She was approached by a little boy in the playground. I had to hide my smile later when she told me their conversation.
She’d said in a very serious tone, “Mommy, he’s so stupid.”
“Leah, you know we don’t use that word.”
“Well, he was.”
“Maybe he just doesn’t know any better,” I said, wondering if I’d need to have a talk with his mother. What had he said to make my child angry?
“He asked me, ‘What are you?’”
“And what did you say?”
“I didn’t know what he meant.”
“Uh huh,” I answered in an encouraging tone.
“He asked me again, and he said, ‘I’m Italian-American and you can be two things.’”
“Oh, so he thinks people can only be two things because that’s what he is.” I realized he was referring to the idea popular then of a hyphenated American.
“Well, I told him, ‘I’m American, I’m Jewish and I’m Chinese. But he kept saying you can’t be three things.”
I knew that Leah wouldn’t let him get away with that.
“Oh, yes, I can,” Leah told me she’d said to him. “I go to American school during the week, Chinese school on Saturday, and Hebrew school on Sunday. Mommy, then he ran away. If I can’t call him stupid, what can I call him?”
Alexandra, the white Canadian blogger behind Madh Mama, thought all of the ignorant comments about her marriage to a South Indian man would end once they had a child. But they didn’t, and it has been one of the biggest challenges for her — especially as hearing things about her daughter hurts her deeply.
Have you heard something about your interracial relationship or biracial children that you’d like to write about for Speaking of China? We welcome all kinds of guest posts (including love stories) — check out the submit a post page for details.
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I often forget that my husband and I are from different cultures. We have so much in common, so many shared interests. We are going on our 9th year together, and I could trace every freckle and scar on his body with my eyes closed. The kind of familiarity that you have with someone you know inside and out.
In reality, we are from vastly different cultures. I was born and brought up in Vancouver, Canada, by a small tight-knit family with European ancestors. My husband is from Hyderabad, India, and descends from the most conservative and devout Indian clans – the Tamil Iyengars.
I always dreamed of having a child with him, in a romantic way. I wanted to expand our family and raise kids together in a way that combined our similar values. I wanted to grow myself by becoming a mother, and I wanted our bond to deepen even further by becoming parents together.
Being a rare mix, we have had a hefty share of ignorant comments. At first, it was people saying things like we “just want to try out a different race“, then it was “he’s only with her for a green card” (I’m not an American, so I don’t even have a green card), then it was “she’s corrupting him with her Western values“, then it was “they’ll never make it to the altar“, then after we got married it was “how can they function with all these cultural differences?” Supporters and believers in our relationship were few and far between. We became desensitized by these kind of comments and learned to expect them. For a long time we didn’t even know that other couples like us even existed, so any negative experience just brought us closer together, since we were the only two people who understood what we were going through.
I thought all of that would end once we started a family together – that by having a child, people would realize that we are committed for life. Especially to other Indians, who assumed that by me having white skin, it automatically meant I was not cut out for motherhood, have no family values, or that I would divorce him.
When we had our daughter, it was the happiest moment of my life. It was incredible. She looked like every single person in our families – combined. Watching her grow up and see how her personality has developed has been astonishing. She is nurturing like me, quick like her dad, a great dancer, and eats any cuisine. She is the most global child I have ever come across. She is classically beautiful and looks like she could pass for any ethnicity. She is adventurous and loves to travel and do new things.
I think the comments started when she was about 6 months old. One of our Indian relatives asked me if we intended to raise her “Indian or American” – as if we had to choose. Then, I got a few comments from white Canadians about how tanned my daughter is, with a weird side-eye glance to prompt me to tell them her ethnicity. When we were visiting Italy last year, everyone thought she was Italian. So much that one old Italian lady pointed to my husband and asked “Is he the father?” when he was standing right in front of her. We have stepped inside an Indian restaurant where every table looked at us with disgust, so much that it scared my daughter. The latest comment we got from an elderly Indian relative was when my daughter was feeling shy. She said, “Maybe she doesn’t like Indians“. Appalling, since she certainly adores her father and many other Indian family members. It stung a lot.
The thing is – I expect comments about myself, but when it is directed towards my child, it hurts me deeply. And it surprises me, because I forget that we are an intercultural family, raising a biracial child. We live in such a multicultural world. We celebrate all festivals and holidays, even ones that don’t belong to our respective cultures – like Chinese New Year and Greek Easter. We have lots of intercultural friends. It’s only when we get ignorant comments that it occurs to me that the multicultural world we live in – is one that we have constructed for ourselves. That the majority of people out there do not mix, that they tend to stick to their own culture, and either out of fear or ignorance – and they do not step outside it. That global families, such as ours, are a minority. However, I hope that my children and grandchildren’s generations see love before color. Because that’s what the world needs – more love…a love that transcends borders and limitations.
My daughter is only 2.5 years old now. I haven’t really figured out how to tell her that sometimes people might question our family – more than others – because we are different. I know I will tell her that doing things differently doesn’t mean we’re wrong, but just that a lot of people won’t understand us. I want her to be confident in who she is. I want her to not be scared of this diverse world we live in, to see the beauty in being different and blaze the trail from there.
I don’t look at my daughter as Indian or Canadian. I look at her soul. I look at her as my child. The child that God sent me to raise. She is both cultures; but at the same time – she is everything. She is anything she wants to be.
Alexandra Madhavan fell in love and married her soulmate. Then she inherited a big, fat South Indian family. She shares her unfiltered view of what it’s really like to be a Firangi Bahu at Madh Mama.
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A few years back when I co-wrote an article titled Western Wives, Chinese Husbands (exploring what it’s like to date and marry Chinese men), we touched on the subject of money — specifically, that sometimes Western women end up being the breadwinner in the family.
I was reminded of that when I first read this post from Judith (who blogs in Dutch at Judith In China). She’s from the Netherlands and currently dating a Beijing local (who she considers her perfect match). But, “Even though I don’t earn much at all, own a house or car, or have savings worth mentioning, I am much more economically stable than he will probably ever be.”
I grew up in a middle-class family in a small town in the Netherlands. My two siblings and I basically had everything we could wish for. We went on modest holidays within the country once a year, got nice birthday gifts and our parents supported us throughout our studies. My boyfriend was born a one-child-policy son and grew up in Beijing’s hutongs. His parents are real lǎobǎixìng; his mother used to sell bus tickets and his father worked as the repair man for a large hotel. Although his parents cared for him much, they lived in one room without private sanitation. Some days all his father could afford for lunch was to share a pancake with his son.
Although our backgrounds couldn’t have been more different, we really are a perfect match.
I have been interested in Chinese language and culture since I was a little girl, and he has been crazy about Western music and culture since he first encountered it in Beijing’s early nineties. I have never had a preference for Asian men or an interest in the AMWF community, on the contrary: if you would have told me a few years ago that I would end up with a real Beijing boy I probably wouldn’t have believed you. When we met, my Chinese wasn’t that great and he didn’t speak much English, but we have been in a loving relationship for over five years now. He is very caring, makes me laugh, and makes me feel like the most beautiful girl on the planet despite being so much whiter, taller and larger than those cute Chinese girls. Most of all, he makes me feel safe.
There is one thing that keeps coming up in our relationship though. I wouldn’t call it a problem, but it is definitely something coming from our different backgrounds that will probably always linger right below the surface. Even though I don’t earn much at all, own a house or car, or have savings worth mentioning, I am much more economically stable than he will probably ever be. His attraction to Western music made him choose to become a professional musician. And although I really believe he is one of the most talented musicians in China and truly has the talent to make a stable income from his profession, it’s not easy in this industry and especially not in China.
When we met, my boyfriend was the member of a rather famous band, but he quit shortly after we became a couple. Since then he has been working on various projects on and off, some of which are more profitable than others. This means that his income was quite OK for the last two years. Although he didn’t earn millions he had frequent gigs, and combined with my stable salary I felt we were quite well off. This year however, there have been some changes in the projects he has been working on and he has barely made any money. At the same time we are looking to get married, but the only thing holding us back is not wanting to spend all my savings on an (even simple) wedding.
In some ways my boyfriend can be very traditional. As the man in the family, he feels horrible about me being the main breadwinner, and this year even supporting him to a certain extent. He doesn’t want to speak about it too much and doesn’t want to let me know how he feels, but I sense it more and more. I don’t mind sharing my income with him. We’re a team and should he one day become world famous I’m sure he would share his wealth with me just the same. But if I offer to buy him new clothes as a present, nicer lunches for him when we don’t eat together or suggest to go on a weekend trip, he says he doesn’t need it. He prefers to wear the same old shoes, eat a 10 kuai bowl of noodles for lunch and not travel much.
I feel this also has to do with a Western approach to finding a good balance between saving and enjoying your money, while he feels that we should not spend much until we’re in a better financial position. And then things such as marriage and buying a house would come first. Whereas I feel that although we shouldn’t spend all our money on an expensive holiday abroad, we can allow ourselves to enjoy an occasional weekend away within China, for example. He doesn’t want me to spend that kind of money for the both of us if he can’t contribute much or anything at all. Which means that I visit friends in other cities and he doesn’t join me, or that I go to a café to work while enjoying a latté and a sandwich while he just eats his bowl of noodles for lunch. He simply does not want to join me, even if I explicitly say I want him to.
I feel bad for him feeling this way, because I don’t see his financial situation as a problem. I fell in love with him because of the man he is, not because I thought that one day cash would come flowing in because of his profession and I wouldn’t have to worry about money anymore. I guess this is a very different perspective compared to many Chinese girls, as they often think in practical terms first when it comes to relationships (such as Ted highlighted in his excellent guest post on this blog titled “What I’ve Learned from 15 Blind Dates in China”).
I hope my boyfriend will someday get used to how I feel and that he can find a way to accept that his girlfriend’s income will probably always be more stable than his.
Judith lives and works in China and blogs about her daily life and the special things she encounters at judithinchina.com(in Dutch).
An anonymous Chinese-American man divulges the details of his one and only extramarital affair — an experience that has left him only more conflicted about what he has done. He wants your advice on what to do next. Read the story and then weigh in with your thoughts in the comments.
I’ve edited this story carefully to avoid obscene or overtly suggestive language. That said, this is about an extramarital affair and certain sexual situations are implied or referenced. Therefore, reader discretion is advised.
Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mr. Fortunate. I will not use my real name, because what you are about to read will shock many of you and I am for certain going to incur much criticism and even condemnation from the readers. I use the name “Mr. Fortunate” because it is highly befitting of my station in life. The word “fortunate” denotes “lucky.” I consider myself very lucky because I am a middle-aged Chinese-American man living in the U.S. and have been married to a beautiful white Western woman for many years. We have several beautiful mixed race children. I have a great profession that is highly recognized in society. I earn a comfortable income and am almost debt free. We have good finances, good health, and a comfortable lifestyle. We have a home that is fully paid for. We even attend a Christian church to thank the Lord for his blessings. By all accounts, I have everything going for me and my family, and therefore I am considered to be very “fortunate”. Many of my peers, especially men, would probably view me and my family with much envy. Therefore, I am “Mr. Fortunate.”
The Debate Within Me
Despite enjoying this great lifestyle, the thought of having an affair with another Western woman crossed my mind several times, especially when the woman is pretty, friendly and open towards me. Many times I simply dismissed the idea and opted to be loyal to my wife and family, because I knew that cheating was just plainly wrong. The question of an extramarital affair crept up and nagged me from time to time for years now. I tried to suppress it every time as I know it is inherently wrong and evil.
Some men told me that they feel refreshed and validated knowing that they had an affair without being caught. They told me that there is a feeling of exhilaration that comes along with a sexual conquest from the extramarital affair and from not being caught. They recommended that I give it a try. I again dismissed these suggestions as such an affair is just wrong. But the curiosity remained within me year after year. The questions nagged at me and bothered me so much so over the many years that I finally succumbed. So one day I decided to cross the line just to see if it is as great as these many men who had affairs had told me.
Before I crossed the line and entered the “dark side” like Darth Vader in Star Wars, I debated this question for a very long time from within me before actually doing it. Why should I have an affair? I do not know exactly, but it was perhaps the allure of fun and games or perhaps the yearning for lust and sensuality. It was the self-satisfaction knowing that despite being a middle-aged man with wrinkles, a receding hairline, being slightly being overweight, and with some grey hair that I can still have a sexual conquest making me feel manly and young again. These men say that if one conquers a much younger woman, the feeling is even better than to conquer a woman of equal age or older. Also, it was perhaps the adrenaline rush that comes from the fear of getting caught, but yet being able to avoid being caught. The excitement derived from knowing that I can still have a woman on the side without being caught and the excitement from trying to avoid being caught made it very tempting. Some would say that my action was imprudent and unwise to put it mildly, while others who are harsher would condemn me as nothing more than a scoundrel or a low-life for betraying my wife and family. If discovered I can lose my wife, much of my wealth to a divorce, and face shame and dishonor in front of my family, siblings and parents. I can assure you that Chinese culture does not condone extramarital affairs. Finally, after much thought and debate I decided to go to the “dark side” just as Anakin Skywalker did before becoming the infamous Darth Vader in the Star Wars series. I wanted to see if it is as exhilarating as other men said.
Having decided go forward with having an affair, I tried to “test the waters” with several female acquaintances, and customers, or some females that I just met by flirting with them at first, but all efforts were to no avail. As is often the case, success does not come on the first several tries. It is persistence that pays. Having been turned down by a few females already, I just continued time and time again. Finally, one day the opportunity presented itself.
The Shocking Affair
(Photo by Pedro Ribeiro Simões via Flickr.com)
One day a very pretty and friendly younger female customer (whom I shall call Mary) came to my office seeking my company’s services. As usual, I tried to use my social skills and personality to charm the customer into signing the contract to use our company’s services. We first talked about our family, life and other positive subjects. I opened by asking her to tell me about herself and so she did. She told me that she is from another country and came to the U.S. when she was a very young girl. She spoke English with a slight touch of an accent. She said she grew up in a fairly strict upbringing because her family is very religious and she did not have the opportunity to date before marriage. But she was fairly liberal because most of her life was spent in America. She only had one man in her life and this man eventually became her husband; they have been married for decades now. She has two children who are now in their teens. She appeared to have a great life: a husband, two beautiful children, a house, and a great income. Her station in life mirrored mine more or less. Her husband is very well to do and she helps him from time to time along with pursuing her own career by working for a nationwide company. She then asked me about my life.
I told her how I met my wife and about my family, my children, and my profession and she told me how she met her husband. I then did the sneaky thing by asking her whether she knows what was the perennial problem that almost all couples face when they have been married for so long. She answered by saying that she did not know and wanted me to tell her. So, I did. I said that the perennial problem is how to keep the romance and excitement strong and alive. I said that after many years of marriage, arguments break out, taking each other for granted, not communicating well and of course the sex and fun will start to dissipate unlike the time when a couple just met and the relationship was new. She agreed.
We had a very long and involved conversation at first about life and family in general and then I transitioned into topics which appealed to women most. I knew that in order to hook the woman I had to make a deep emotional connection with her to have any chance of seducing her. So, I avoided morbid topics such as death, mayhem, rape, religion, and politics as well as other mundane and boring subjects. I was told in the past by many men that women like to hear about “relationships and the unknown.” This was what I used to play her with. Little by little I escalated the conversation into more romantic and sexual suggestions such as how I met and seduced my wife and how I got her into bed with me. She laughed. Later I told her jokingly that I now have a “ball and chain” attached to my ankle and cannot go out anymore to have fun. So, the fun is over for this Chinese man.
She replied by saying, “You are such a coward now!” and she laughed.
So, I asked her a hypothetical question, “What if you had to go out alone for say a business lunch or dinner, will your husband approve?”
She replied, “Let me worry about my husband as I can take care of him and I am not a coward like you.”
Later after we finished our business transaction (i.e., she signed the contract) and it was time for her to leave my office, I suggested that we meet again one day for a business lunch or dinner as I would love to get more business from her in the future. As we all know taking a customer out for either lunch or dinner to get more future business is very common. She agreed but that it would have to take place when the weather is much warmer in the next few months. I then gently asked her with a sneaky smile on my face, “Would your husband allow you to go out alone, or would you like to bring him along to make it look legitimate?”
Mary replied once again, “Don’t you worry about him. You just worry about your wife and I will worry about my husband. I shall find a way to come out for the ‘business’ dinner.” I was elated beyond belief as I not only secured her business but also the chance to cheat and romance her.
Months passed and we exchanged only a few emails (using my secret email account that no one knows about under an alias to which no one had access to, not even my wife) and nothing happened until the opportune time came — summer. Summer is when the days are longer and the nights are warmer, a time when romance is in the air. So, I then contacted her by phone at work during working times to avoid suspicion; I used my office phone and not my cell phone to avoid any traces, and I used the alias Mr. Fortunate. I then talked to her and arranged for a date, time and place to meet her and pick her up in my car. I told my wife that I was going out on a business dinner and my wife trusted me as I had been out for business lunches and dinners before alone. My wife had absolutely no reason to doubt me this time. When having an extramarital affair, secrecy is key and thus I turned off my cell phone that night, disabled my GPS system, refrained from using texting, used false names and aliases, used pretexts to go out, and eliminated any traces of evidence. I trusted that she too was prudent enough to do the same. I arrived at the pre-designated rendezvous point over 20 minutes late and I was worried that she may simply have thought that I was too scared and that she may have left. But, then, there she was waiting for me!
“Hi Mary!” I greeted her with a big smile masking my secret heartfelt fear. I was nervous beyond belief but I had to act and hide it.
“Hi.” She smiled back at me. We embraced and together we entered my car.
I drove and I suggested that we go to a restaurant serving her country’s ethnic food for dinner. I assumed she would feel more comfortable eating the food she grew up with, and thus more comfortable with this whole affair (which was undoubtedly nerve racking for her as well). She said, “No. Definitely not.”
I asked, “What? Why not?”
She said, “Because there are too many people from my country who eat there and I am afraid to be recognized by my fellow countrymen. My husband and I do quite a bit of business in the community.”
I thought to myself, “Wow, she seemed rather well versed in affairs to be able to take steps to avoid detection.”
(Photo by JohannesW via pixabay.com)
We ate at an American restaurant at a booth where the ambience was darker to reduce our chances of being seen. We enjoyed our steak dinner and the cost was quite pricy for me. As with any affair, there is a cost to taking the woman out for romance, aside from the emotional cost and other costs flowing from it if discovered. I paid in cash and not by credit card to avoid any traces. After dinner we went to a bar next to the beach. At this bar, we found a corner where we both sat adjacent to each other in the outdoor patio. She sat to my left and I was on her right. It was dark now and even less likely that others would see us. She drank alcohol but I did not. I refrained from drinking any alcohol not only because I do not drink it, but also because I wanted my mental and physical abilities to be at their best to be able to seduce her. Once again we talked about funny things and I avoided morbid topics and mundane subjects. After she had a large glass of alcohol, I could see that she was a little buzzed. As she laughed more and more and her tone was increasingly flirtatious with me, I knew the time had arrived for me to escalate. After I told her a joke and she laughed once again, I leaned inward to her and hugged her, and after the hug, I did not retract my left arm which was now around her back and perched on her left shoulder. Slowly but surely I slide this left hand down her back, where I left it. I felt completely turned on. We talked for hours and then it was time to leave. We walked to my car from the bar to the parking garage side-by-side and then when we arrived at my car, I opened the passenger car’s front door for her. She laughed loudly now and shouted, “I am so drunk now!” Then I leaned inward for a close kiss and she kissed me back passionately. Afterward, I started to drive her back to the original rendezvous point to drop her off for her to pick up her car. I suggested that we pull over to a darker place in a nearby residential area for a little more action. She agreed. So, I entered the neighborhood near the bar and parked under a tree where there was very little light. There we kissed again. I had my left hand up her dress and I even kissed her bare breasts. I wanted to escalate it even more and I suggested that she and I go to my house as my wife and kids were away that weekend. She rejected this idea. So, I asked her several more times and she once again rejected this notion. I told myself that there will be a next time when I will score. After this little fling I drove her back to her car and dropped her off. This was the end of our first encounter.
When I arrived at her car, I asked her if I could see her again. She said yes. We then parted ways. I left with an enormous feeling of success, just like many men who had affairs had told me about. I could hardly believe my luck now. I cheered and was elated beyond belief.
The next time I saw her was many months later. I once again picked her up at the same rendezvous point as before, taking the same precautions as usual. This time I wanted to go all the way with her, so I bought condoms. Also, this time my wife and children were out-of-state to visit my wife’s side of the family. No one was at home and thus I wanted to be bold by taking her to my bedroom. After dinner, I invited her to my place as I told her that my wife and children were not at home. She was reluctant at first but now she trusted me enough. So, she came to my house. She drank some alcohol at my house and I refrained from any drinking for the same reasons as above. I asked her to tour my house and walk around with me. She complied. When I had her in my bedroom, I knew it was a great opportunity and I tried to get her clothes off. We started making out and things were going extremely well. I was about to achieve an enormous feat because there she was, lying naked on my bed, ready to have me.
Then suddenly things went awry!
My excitement faded as I started to feel remorseful. The pictures of me, my wife and children were dangling above the bed. My wedding photos were there. I just could not muster the strength or courage to do this. I felt that I had betrayed my wife and the wedding vow that I had taken many years ago by promising to be faithful and loyal. Mary asked me, “What’s wrong?” I had to lie to her by saying I couldn’t do it because I had gotten too excited and now had to change my underwear. This was absolutely not true!
She was disappointed in me. She was upset and rightfully so, because there she was, lying naked on my bed (since she trusted me enough to come to my house and into my bedroom) only to be let down in the end. I drove her back to her car that evening and we barely talked on the way there. After she left in her car, I simply emailed her the next day to thank her and inquired whether she had made it home safely. She answered my email by thanking me and said she made it home safely. Since then I have not contacted her in any way, shape, or form. I simply disappeared from her life and she disappeared from mine.
Afterthoughts
After the affair, I started to carefully reflect on what I did. I questioned why I did what I did. At times I felt terrible for betraying my wife and the wedding vow. At other times I felt validated that I still had the ability to seduce a younger, pretty girl. I just cannot believe that I had the woman naked on my bed and then at the moment of truth, I was not able to perform. How pitiful! I still have mixed feelings about it to this very day. Not only did she no longer speak to me, but she did not give me any more business. So, I had two losses: Mary and her business. I remind myself that I have not lost everything though as I still have my wife and children, my fortunate lifestyle, and the “great” memory from the affair. I still have two questions that remain unanswered to this day:
1) Should I confess to my wife about the affair and take the consequences or should I remain silent?
2) If I remain silent, should I do it again with the same woman or another woman so as to get the long sought after fulfillment which I did not get due to my pitifulness, or should I simply quit while I am already ahead?
Dear readers, please advise me as I am still very torn right now.
When you see an Asian woman and a white man together, what runs through your mind? Do you see just another happy interracial couple? Or do you wonder, is he another white guy with yellow fever? (Or worse, do you think he’s another Julien Blanc or Chinabounder, a man who comes to Asia with the sole intent of preying upon the women for sexual or personal gain?)
That’s the idea behind Gerald Zhang-Schmidt’s guest post. He’s a guy who happened to come to China because he loved the culture. But since he has a Chinese wife, some people wonder if “Chinese culture” is really just a coded way of saying “Chinese women.”
I have written before about how privilege can be a double-edged sword. When you are part of the majority that usually goes unquestioned, you have it much easier than those who always have to somehow justify themselves. At the same time, you will be put on the spot much less because everyone assumes they know what you’re about.
Usually, you read about Asian Male – Western Female relationships here on Jocelyn’s “Speaking of China,” and it is a topic of interest by the same token. It is the unusual coupling/pairing that draws attention while the opposite WMAF relationship is a dime a dozen.
Ah, yes, another white guy in China. Who cares?
Speak Chinese in public, even just a few words, and you will be praised. And then you will find yourself compared to Dashan. (Or right now, internationally, perhaps to Mark Zuckerberg.)
Get into a relationship with a Chinese woman, get ready for everyone knowing just perfectly well why and how that would have happened. Oftentimes, it seems everyone will think they know better than you, without ever having so much as done anything more than caught a glance of you.
At risk of sounding like bad Chinese “news” pieces, “everyone knows” of some “rotten apples,” and it’s been killing the atmosphere. I wrote about my relationship to my wife, who is Chinese, and the thoughts it raised before on my blog. One comment that immediately popped up accused me of “yellow fever.” Fittingly, right next to the link to a more recent post talking about how “yellow fever” is a demeaning concept.
So, I spoke to a fellow passenger on a train in China. She asked me what had led me to China and I replied that I’d had an interest in Chinese culture for as long as I could remember. She then asked me if by interest in Chinese culture, I actually meant the girls.
My then-girlfriend and I went down the road, heads turned and stared. Not just in her small-town hometown, where the police hadn’t had any idea about how to handle my residence registration until they checked in with their higher-ups. But even more so in the somewhat bigger cities where people obviously, in disapproving looks and mumbled comments, expressed their dubious opinion of our relationship.
I can’t blame the Chinese, though.
Pretty much every culture around the world tends to “lose” the daughters to husbands, and pretty much everywhere, seeing foreigners “take away” women is seen as an indication of one’s own weakness vis-á-vis the “others.”
Add an awareness, even if just at the level of urban legends and social media hearsay, of (supposedly) rich foreign guys basically buying themselves brides (of course, such stories would turn into morality tales with bad endings), foreigners actually bragging about the ease and number of their Asian conquests, and stories of destroyed virginities (and thus, marriage prospects, as per traditional Chinese notions) and broken hearts. It’s no wonder there is suspicion.
It is just natural.
I find it less natural for foreigners to bring along their cavalier attitudes about dating and sex to China. Okay, one could argue that it’s not a big deal here, given the traditional attitudes towards the wife versus mistresses. But no matter what over-entitled and under-culturally aware people claim, a stranger in a strange land should act with more concern for his host country.
Nowadays, of course, the effects on foreigners aren’t just isolated to places like China. Everywhere, one lives in the shadow of aspersion cast by those who act… well, in this case, under the influence of their penises rather than their brains, it seems.
Argue that you are different, and in a case of “methinks [he] doth protest too much”, you appear defensive, and by association, guilty. But shutting up only gives more room for the worst voices out there. So, at least sometimes – thank you for the invite and the reminder to do so again, Jocelyn – I go on writing about this issue. Most importantly, however, I keep on living it differently, remaining true to the woman I fell in love with and continue to love, whose name I added to my own, and who I want to make happy.
I’d love to add that it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, but we humans are social animals to whom other’s opinions do matter a lot. However, it would help a lot, for a start, if you could at least not think the worst of us without knowing anything but our genders and ethnicities.
Gerald Zhang-Schmidt is an ecologist and cultural anthropologist who spent three years living in China, and now resides with his wife in his native Austria where he writes about the ecology of happiness, chili peppers and being at home in the world.
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