Today’s the first day of May (Asian-Pacific American Heritage Month in the US) and it’s the perfect time to put out my latest call for submissions. If you’re an Asian man and you have something to say about love and dating, I want to hear from you!
Here’s a snippet from an anonymous reader’s e-mail that inspired me to put this call for submissions:
The simple thing is that many of us Asian men have a very hard time escaping not only our own paradigms of the world, but the paradigms of American white women. I know that the only paradigm we can really change is ours. Change our paradigm and soon how the world looks at us changes, too. But that paradigm has such a powerful hold on our lives that I find myself constantly falling back upon my old thought patterns of worthless and asexuality. And I work out and have been improving my fashion sense and people skills for the past couple of years!
Here’s where I hope that an influential site such as yours can help to effect the change I want to see in the world. The majority of your posts seem to be mainly about couples in China. Would it be possible to get a balance of couples in America, models that men like me can see and then believe in the possibility of love where skin color do not exist?
I think it would also be a great idea for your blog to have guest posts by men who were able to overcome their f***ed up beliefs, gain more confidence in themselves, and what they did to find love.
Asian men, bros, let me have your attention for a moment. I don’t need to tell you about the discrimination, you’re living in it. You have to act if you want change. It’s a hostile environment, but the ladies are leading the charge, kicking all kinds of ass, and you’re not helping enough. So don’t think of it in terms of modesty, privacy, or hassle; think of it in terms of picking up a fair share of the work that we all agree needs to be done. Write your experiences. They are worthwhile.
Exactly!
So, what should you write about? Here’s a sampling:
Stories of how you found interracial love (that classic tale of how you met and, if you married, how you tied the knot)
Stories about how you were able to gain confidence in dating and overcome barriers (such as stereotypes and racism)
Your personal experiences with interracial dating anywhere in the world
Ma da dao is Shanghainese slang meaning, “shop, wash, cook.”…
The exception is when the term is used to describe men in Shanghai — guys who don’t just shop, wash and cook, but famously do so without complaint….
2. The professional ‘bag carrier’…
When shopping with her Shanghainese boyfriend or husband (yes, Shanghai men shop, remember “ma” from point number one?) the Shanghai female doesn’t need to carry any bags, including her own petite purse….
3. Family pride
Chatting with a married Western man, you may need to wait hours before he mentions his wife. Chatting with a married Shanghainese man, you may need to wait hours before he stops talking about his wife….
4. Tolerance
The relationship between mother and daughter-in-law is like an active volcano in the Middle Marriage Kingdom. But the Shanghai husband’s legendary tolerance can single-handedly turn a lava flow into a pile of dead ashes, or a volcano to be enjoyed and admired like Mt. Fuji….
5. Masculinity in disguise…
Shanghainese men simply see it as their responsibility to provide their families with a wealthy life. Their outlook is, “I’ll make all the money and deal with all the ‘bei ju,'” a trendy Internet phrase in China meaning “everything tragic.”…
As much as I’m fascinated by this idea (when was the last time you heard anything positive about Asian men in the world of dating and marriage?) I find myself torn about how to feel about it. After all, the superiority of Shanghai husbands rests on some reasons that come across as potentially emasculating – the last thing any group of Asian men needs in this world.
Being renowned for, say, your prowess in the kitchen and doing housework doesn’t exactly scream “macho man”. While my feminist side loves a man who shares in the chores and kitchen duty – like John – I know it’s not going to boost the image of Asian men around the world. Asian men have been shackled with some of the most degrading racial stereotypes (particularly that one about a man’s, well, you know), casting them as the sexless pariahs of the dating world. As Alex Tizon wrote in his powerful memoir Big Little Man, “In the America that I grew up in, men of Asia placed last in the hierarchy of manhood.” Doesn’t the supposed supremacy of Shanghai men – based on their talents in the home, kitchen, and carrying women’s bags – just make things worse?
Then again, should we measure Shanghai husbands against Western ideals of what makes a man a man? After all, it’s the Chinese who first noted – and praised — the greatness of Shanghainese husbands. I’m reminded of how Alex Tizon wrote about the Chinese ideal of Wen Wu (文武) regarding masculinity in Big Little Man:
For the past two thousand years in China, you could not be merely a tough guy to be considered an ideal man. You also had to be scholarly, poetic, and wise. The manliest of men were philosopher-warriors, and more philosopher than warrior. A cultivated mind was more highly esteemed than big biceps or deft swordsmanship.
Or, in the case of the Shanghai husband, a cultivated man who cares for his wife, family and home in very practical and tangible ways.
I oscillate between both of these sides, never quite satisfied with either – and ultimately, never 100 percent a cheerleader for the superior Shanghai husband.
However, there is one husband whose side I’ll always be on – mine. John is from Hangzhou, not Shanghai. Sure, he does his share of the housework, helps in the kitchen, and always carries my bags when we shop. But he also lifts weights, is really sexy, and has an awesome sense of humor (he tells better jokes than I do, even in English). He defies categorization. And to me, he’ll always be the greatest husband in the world.
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.
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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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.
Korea.net / Korean Culture and Information Service (Photographer name) [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia CommonsOne of the greatest gifts of being in a cross-cultural or international relationship is how it changes your perspective on the world. That’s what happened to American book blogger Svetlana, who once dated a Korean guy — and at first, couldn’t understand his reluctance to celebrate the Korean Lunar New Year in America.
“How are you going to celebrate Lunar New Years?” I asked him over the phone, holding my cell phone close to my ear.
He chuckled as if I made a joke instead of asking a serious question. “Back in Korea, there is already a holiday atmosphere, something that’s not here,” he told me. “It’s hard to get excited over Korean holidays.”
As much as I could relate to that, a part of me didn’t entirely understand. My family also came over to America and yet we celebrated Russian and Jewish holidays. So why was it hard for him to celebrate Korean holidays?
The only holidays he and I ever celebrated together were birthdays. We would talk about holidays, and I learned more about Korean culture and where he came from. But despite my wishes, we never celebrated any Asian holidays. Only a few times did we celebrate Valentine’s Day, mostly by giving each other small gifts. But other than that, nothing.
Only after he went back to South Korea did I finally understand why he didn’t celebrate Korean holidays with me.
Creating a community on your own is difficult, and holidays often mean intimate moments between family members instead of passing acquaintances or co-workers. Since I have my parents and my sister with me in America, it’s much easier to enjoy that sense of community. He was also surrounded by a Korean community, but how many of these people were his friends or family members? How many of them were able to understand and support him? I also realized it probably wasn’t easy for him to help me, an outsider, understand what to do and not to do for the holidays.
Sometimes when I met international students from China, it seemed as if they were living in survival mode. I doubted they celebrated Chinese holidays on their own. After all, when they have to worry about things like finances and even jobs, how can they have time to kick back and relax?
What if I had been an international student like him, dating a guy in that country? Would I have forsaken my own holidays, or would I have asked him to celebrate with me? Chances are, if I had worried about things like finances, I would have done the same as him.
It’s a shame I never had the chance to celebrate Seollal, the Korean Lunar New Year, with my past Korean boyfriend. Still, thanks to him, now I understand more how difficult it is to be here alone in America, especially during holiday gatherings, as well as the importance of establishing a community to help you celebrate holidays. All along, I took it for granted that I was surrounded by supportive family members to celebrate the holidays with me.
Svetlana is a book review blogger. She enjoys reading unique books set in Asian cultures, from classics to contemporaries, and introducing her followers to AM/WF books that aren’t so well known. Her blog has something for everyone. She is still single.
—– Speaking of China is always on the lookout for outstanding guest posts and love stories! If you have something you’d like us to feature, visit the submit a post page for details — and then submit yours today.
I, MarcusObal [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)], via Wikimedia CommonsAn anonymous Chinese Singaporean man writes, “We became an office tryst. Nobody knew what was going on between us. I liked the fact that secrecy added fire to our sex.” This story takes you into the world of a hidden love affair between two coworkers that didn’t last, but left lasting memories for the writer.
I appreciate the way you gently disappeared out of my sight.
After all, I “thank you” for having met you in my life.”
You know how the story ends and yet you read it to the end. You know what happens in the movie and still you wanted to watch it once more to experience the energy, feelings, empathy and joy all over again – all the things you hold so dear in your life. This is the story of a relationship that ended, one that I still hold dear in my own life. It is a story that I cannot stop reading in my own mind.
Part I
It all started on the day when the weather was perfect. The work ambience was quiet. I walked into my office as usual, with the feeling that it was going be the same old work environment. I still couldn’t forget the vivid beauty of that scene, with the bright sunlight coming through our transparent glass window, grazing her face while she was intently looking at the computer screen.
I instantly thought, “She’s new here.” She took a quiet glance as I was walking. I couldn’t believe what I saw. If I could have just asked her, “Would you hold that for a second?” my phone camera would have definitely snapped the moment. But I didn’t ask and she didn’t hold. We proceeded towards our chores.
The whole day I couldn’t get her out of my head, I kept thinking about where she’s from, what she’s doing here, or if she has a boyfriend. As crazy as it sounded, I chided myself, “It’s just a glance, what’s the big deal?” I tried to stop thinking about her. Never did I ever ask myself, “Dude, you’re crazy.” instead I kept asking, “What makes her attracted to me?” The thought replayed in my mind multiple times until I was satisfied with my answer. At the end of the day, I felt pretty confident that it was this: “It’s her manners. It’s the way she carries herself.” On the one hand, I told myself, “You’re crazy.” On the other hand, I thought, “Well, it’s free for fantasizing, you don’t have to pay.”
The next day we both bumped into each other at the corridor. She is about 5’8’’ tall. I could still remember she was holding her winter jacket in her arms, with her neatly combed hair. I wanted to smile at her. But I didn’t. We both just stared at each other and I said to myself, “You’re an idiot.”
As the days, weeks and months passed by, I found myself struggling with my emotions. We both just stared at each other, but didn’t even smile. I didn’t know what was holding me back. I guess she also didn’t know what was holding her back then. I then thought, “If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.”
Part II
It just so happened on that day. She caught a cold and I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. In an effort to be a good co-worker, I asked if she needed any help with the meds. She said fine and we talked for a while. We exchanged numbers. Needless to say, the night of that same day, I asked for her address by text, drove to her apartment and we chatted for a moment after I dropped off the cold meds.
She was new in our office for a year on training from Europe, which is where her home country is. I’m a Chinese Singaporean here in the US. She sometimes learned Mandarin from me.
We became an office tryst. Nobody knew what was going on between us. I liked the fact that secrecy added fire to our sex. One time we were in the elevator standing close. We’re staring at each other for minutes. Then the coworker came in, and we just automatically looked away from each other. We stifled our laughs. She also seemed to like that we were enjoying ourselves instead of going public in the work environment. We joked, we laughed. We shared our moments. Ups and downs meant a lot to both of us. Downs were usually when both of us were trying to figure out our mutual sentiments. Ups were usually when we both enjoyed each other’s presence.
Every time after I finished my workout, she greeted me by text. Every time before she left the office, I texted her to if she wanted to have something to eat with me. Sometimes we went out of town for dinners together. Usually the meals she ordered ended up being in my plate and the meals I ordered ended up in her plates. I still remember the time when I asked if she wanted to have some drinks. She said, “I only eat water during my meals.” I laughed. She asked why. I took up a glass full of water, and guzzled it down my throat. She still didn’t get it. I told her, “That’s how you eat water.” She was mad. I laughed. We both went back to our apartment and enjoyed our lust.
Part III
I knew that she’d be leaving any time soon. A part of me wanted to figure out a way to work this out. A part of me also knew that those would just be the moments that lasted in our memories. One day I took her to a nearby waterfall at night. She asked me why. We kissed, sitting in our car, listening to the sounds of the water from the falls, I told her I liked her. If things worked out, I had planned to pop the question later. She blushed. She smiled. What she said to me was something I couldn’t deny. “Thank you.”
I was speechless. I was frustrated. I sank in my emotional devastation. I couldn’t believe my ears that I heard her say “thank you”? She smiled at me again and told me, “Yes because you said you like me.” I drove back. Silence reigned in our car. We stopped talking for several weeks. We intentionally avoided each other at work. My brain kept telling me, “You’re an idiot.” My consciousness kept replying to me “Thank you” for weeks. Those were the days I thought my whole world was upside down. I was not into anything, anything at all. I knew that I was playing with fire — the fire that was burning the brightest before it was going to fizzle.
Part IV
The day before she left for Europe, she asked me if I could spend the night in her apartment. I told myself, “You’re an idiot, you’re being used. YOU ARE BEING USED!!!” I told her that I would rather stay alone, knowing that she was leaving for good. She told me that she was going to “eat water” if I wasn’t coming. It was a joke that only the two of us understood, a joke about sex. I drove down to her apartment and helped her pack. After the packing, she whispered in my ears the sweetest words I was longing to hear: “Silly, you know that I love you too.”
I knew that the things that you want and things that you must have in life are different. We knew from the beginning that we would have ended up apart. But the temptation was so strong. It could have been more wrong if she had said, “I love you too.” We would be so obsessed with our fantasy instead of being yanked back to our reality. Now that I think about it, I am really thankful for what she did.
Part V
That was two years ago, while I was 27, and she was 25. She took all of my feelings away; childhood fantasy, adulthood reality, and such. I’m not sure I can ever find another woman to love.
—– Speaking of China is always on the lookout for outstanding guest posts and love stories! If you have something you’d like us to feature, visit the submit a post page for details — and then submit yours today.
I never thought a simple trip to the grocery store with my husband would give me one of the most embarrassing experiences I’ve ever had.
It happened while we were checking out of a grocery store in the US. My husband, as usual, started bagging our stuff while I pulled out my credit card to pay for everything. It was just another typical checkout experience – until the cashier, a white woman in her fifties, started chatting with me.
“Nice to have some help,” she said, referring to my husband who had already bagged everything and placed it neatly in our shopping cart.
“Yeah, he is pretty great.” I couldn’t help but smile with pride. Who doesn’t love it when her husband is the envy of others?
Or so I thought, until the cashier opened her mouth again.
“So, is he your foreign exchange student?”
That’s right – a casher in America actually mistook my own husband for some foreign exchange student I was hosting.
A flush of red mounted my face as I realized exactly what this meant. One, that she had noticed my thirty-something husband was a foreigner and thought he looked old enough to be an undergraduate in college or younger. And two, that she thought I looked too old to be his wife.
She might as well have pointed out every single wrinkle on my thirty-something face, because that’s exactly how embarrassed I felt.
I cleared my throat. “Actually, he’s my husband.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” The cashier seemed genuinely apologetic, right down to the way her own cheeks turned a self-conscious shade of scarlet.
But it was too late for that. She’d already put the idea out there. And let me tell you, I never hurried out of a checkout line faster than that moment.
I never thought a simple trip to the grocery store with my husband would give me one of the most embarrassing experiences I’ve ever had.
Honestly, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Long before this ever happened, relatives and friends doted on John’s youthful appearance. In fact, it seemed like a month never went by in America without my dad saying, “John, you look like you’re still in high school!” They schooled me a reality that had remained hidden to me until I married an Asian man: the popular belief that Asians look younger than white people.
But until that moment in that checkout line, I was blissfully unaware that some Americans might actually think I was old enough to, say, be a guardian to a foreign exchange student. And might mistake my Asian husband for said student.
Of course, I’m not the only white woman in an AMWF relationship who has had an embarrassingly personal reminder of how Asians look younger than white people, as Constance of Foreign Sanctuary reminds me in her post My Taiwanese Husband & His Most Amazing Moment in Vegas!!:
While dining in Las Vegas a couple of years ago, my 30-something year old husband (who, might I add, is two years older than me) heard the most magical words from a waitress when he tried to order a beer.
‘May I see your ID, please?’
Smiling from ear to ear, his dimples as defined as ever, like a kid in a candy store, he turned to me and asked me for his passport which I was holding for safe keeping in my bag.
He passed her his passport and she began to examine it. She looked at his passport photo, she looked at him, and then back at the photo. She continued by checking the edges, clearly thinking that it must have been a fake one.
Then, she said ‘Oh my God! You are in your 30’s!!’
Talk about inflating someone’s ego with one sentence!
Trying to salvage some dignity, even just a little, I casually asked the following question.
‘Would you like to see mine as well?’
And to add more salt to the wound, to drive the dagger further into my heart, she made the following reply:.
‘No, that’s fine! You’re OK.’
Oh, the humiliation! The embarrassment!
Ouch.
I’ll be honest – for the longest time, I swore I would never go public with this encounter in the grocery store. I wanted it to be like the diary I used to hide under my mattress in grade school, forever safe from scrutiny. Who wants to admit before the world that, in fact, people think she looks old?
(John to me): Is that a gray hair?
Yet, the older I get, the more I realize the importance of accepting myself, warts and all. After all, aging is a reality for everyone. Maybe some of us are lucky enough to look younger (ahem, John), while others are not so lucky (ahem, me!). But in the end, we’re all headed in the same direction.
And honestly, who hasn’t seen the person with the dyed hair that’s obviously there to hide the gray and isn’t fooling anyone? Or someone like the late Joan Rivers, with so much plastic surgery and botox she doesn’t even look real anymore?
I cringe over the extremes we turn to just to hide our real age, when the treatment we really need is simple — accepting ourselves exactly as we are.
Besides, my husband still thinks I’m the sexiest woman in the world. He can’t keep his hands off me – wrinkles and stretch marks and hidden gray hairs and all. He loves me just as passionately as that night over 12 years ago when we first kissed beside the West Lake.
So what if he doesn’t “look” like he matches me in age to some folks? I know he’s my perfect match and that’s all I’ll ever need to know.
Have you ever had an experience where someone mistook you or your boyfriend/girlfriend or spouse for a different age? How did it make you feel?
Logan Lo enlightened me with this guest post, which speaks to an oft-forgotten side of Hollywood history and how it has impacted Asian men in the media today. He writes: “…there are some that feel that the modern effeminization of Asian men in Hollywood and television was due – at least in some part – to the backlash over the first Hollywood sex symbol, a Japanese man named: Sessue Hayakawa.”
Who was Sessue Hayakawa? Read on to learn more about this fascinating and pioneering actor. (UPDATE: For more background on this topic, read Logan Lo’s post titled Asian-ish.)
“Sessue Hayakawa 1918” by Unknown – Internet Archive. Licensed under Public domain via Wikimedia Commons – http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sessue_Hayakawa_1918.jpg#mediaviewer/File:Sessue_Hayakawa_1918.jpg
But for the purposes of this blog entry, let’s talk about just Asian men in Hollywood and television.
There’s always been a peculiar mindset about us in Western cinema. For years, there were two contradictory caricatures: the diabolical and animalistic Fu Manchu trope on end, and the intelligent and effeminate Charlie Chan trope on the other.
Both played, for years, by white actors.
The former can be traced back to the Mongol hordes and the Huns that were the boogymen of Europe for centuries but there are some that feel that the modern effeminization of Asian men in Hollywood and television was due – at least in some part – to the backlash over the first Hollywood sex symbol, a Japanese man named: Sessue Hayakawa.
“The Cheat FilmPoster” by The cover art can be obtained from Movieposterdb.com.. Licensed under Fair use of copyrighted material in the context of The Cheat (1915 film) via Wikipedia – http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:The_Cheat_FilmPoster.jpeg#mediaviewer/File:The_Cheat_FilmPoster.jpeg
How popular was he? He was as well known as Charlie Chaplin, got paid $200,000 a film, and made enough to drive around in a gold-plated car.
Unfortunately, in his breakout role on The Cheat – where he even appeared prominently in promotional posters – he was still in the mold of the sinister Asian male, albeit in a hyper-sexualized sorta way. That was the first time an Asian man was portrayed as, well, a leading man.
A sexual deviant man, but a man nonetheless.
Unfortunately, only a few years later, the idea of an Asian man as a masculine movie lead disappeared, leaving the simple extremes of Fu Manchu/Charlie Chan as the only dramatis personae for Asian dudes.
By the time WWII rolled around, it was exclusively one or the other, with the effeminate version culminating in “Long Duk Dong” of Pretty in Pink, which NPR examines far better than I could.
In that NPR article, however, the author uses a then up-and-coming John Cho as an interesting juxtaposition for the Long Duk Dong character. And currently, Cho is the Asian lead of the US television show, Selfie and the first Asian-American lead opposite a white female ever on television.
So here we are: 99 years after The Cheat, we have Selfie.
The hope is that it’s good. That John Cho doesn’t play some version of Fu Manchu or Charlie Chan but just your everyday all-American dude that just happens to be Asian.
Let’s see how it goes.
Logan Lo is a native New Yorker who’s been blogging since 2006. In between practicing law by day and teaching Filipino fencing by night, he’s managed to get married and write a popular article on online dating titled “eHarmony vs. Match,” as well as the books A Great Online Dating Profile and A Great First Date. He currently lives in Manhattan with his wife and his plant, Harold.
I know, it sounds like a crazy question for a website that includes AMWF in its tagline. But ever since I came across this article in the summer titled How AM (Asian Male) Anything Creeps Women Out, it’s been on my mind.
For those of you who missed it, here’s an excerpt from the article:
Sending out a little over twenty e-mails to a little over twenty attractive women, I received some painful yet truthful responses regarding the Asian male (anything) women cults. “It’s creepy. A bunch of Asian guys in a room, or any guys for that matter make me feel like an object rather than a person,” said one responder. Another said the following, “things like AMWF feel set up. I actually really like Asian guys, but the environment is awkward. I’d rather meet someone in person. Also, for the internet, I don’t do online dating or meet ups – period!” Finally, another responder who had previously attended an AMWF meet up wrote back, “I didn’t like most of the guys that were there because the only thing they cared about was getting laid, or getting a girlfriend. We shared no common interests, and that’s why I chose an Asian interest group instead like a learning Japanese MeetUp.com group.”³
As much as I champion interracial dating for Asian men, when I read this part of the article, I couldn’t help but sympathize with the women. It would feel incredibly creepy and uncomfortable to be in a situation where you’re surrounded by tons of men (some with only one thing on their minds), or where things feel awkward/set up.
While I know there are people out there who have met through these sites/groups, it’s hard to argue with the author’s conclusion: “If you’re an Asian guy looking for a girlfriend or something along the lines of a girlfriend, your best bet is to actively seek through a less obvious approach. AM anything creeps women out regardless of whether they like Asian men or not.”
On the other hand, if you’re looking for community, I don’t think AMWF is creepy at all.
Look, AMWF is certainly not the rarest interracial pairing out there (I’m sure that honor would go to Asian men and Black men). Still, we’re rare enough compared to the entire interracial dating world – enough to feel like you’re part of a lonely club. And when you realize you’re the “odd one out” and you start having these experiences your friends don’t always understand, it’s really valuable to have a community you can turn to. You know, people who understand what you’re going through – such as negative comments you’ve heard about dating Asian men or the heartbreaking discrimination your husband experiences in your home country.
I also know plenty of people who aren’t in a relationship, but visit AMWF websites just for inspiration and encouragement. For example, a close male friend of mine from China once told me he loves looking at the photos of couples and families on my Pinterest board. He dreams of finding a Western woman somewhere in the world to love and marry, and these photos offer him a possible vision of that future family he hopes to have.
The people I’ve met through the AMWF community – from bloggers to authors to the many people I’ve connected with (online and off) — have truly enriched my life. I’ve learned from them, connected with them and found common ground with them. They’ve helped me feel a little less lonely and even supported me. I can’t imagine a world without them.
What do you think about using AMWF site or meetup groups for dating? Is it a creepy scene or not? What do you see as the value of AMWF communities?
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