Twenty-something articles about relationships drive me up a freaking wall.
I hate them.
The market for articles and advice columns about love and relationships is almost exclusively limited to white women. Being a woman of color in a society that is so mainstream white is not easy. As such, there is nothing for me to connect to. There are countless hours that I have spent, usually late at night, scrolling the internet, skimming article after article only to close tab after tab, hoping to come across something written by someone with a similar relationship to mine.
The Odyssey, Thoughtcatalog, even Her Campus… all these websites are amazing platforms for women (and men!) to share their thoughts and experiences about a broad range of topics. So why is it so difficult to find people in a relationship similar to mine? A South Asian woman dating a white man is not completely unheard of.
But the secretive nature of these relationships makes it nearly impossible to find literature about the brown woman dating. Not even just because of the white man in the equation. Try to find literature about the South Asian woman and sexuality for a gender studies class. You’re more likely to find X-rated videos of Indian women engaging in acts that would probably make their conservative, immigrant parents die of shame.
Being the daughter of immigrants, I can attest to the reality of the stereotype of not being allowed to talk to boys until it’s time for you to get married. This varies in intensity from family to family, of course. But as a general statement, trying to date can be next to impossible (though many parents are being more lenient about this the longer they reside in the West).
So you’re forced to hide your relationship. You’re forced to be two-faced. There’s the face you wear when you are at home and out and about in the community. You’re the model daughter, your rotis are perfectly round and your chai is sweetened to perfection. Then there’s the other face. The face you wear around your school friends. The face you kiss boys with.
I “dated” in high school. I had one boyfriend in 9th grade (and that relationship ultimately ended due to religious differences). If dating could be classified as holding hands at football games, texting each other slightly more than our other peers and him occasionally sticking his tongue down my throat, then that’s what we did. But that relationship ended within the year and the reality of my marrying another South Asian (most probably Bangladeshi) was heightened very suddenly. So when I met my current boyfriend in 11th grade, I tried really, really hard to loathe him. I tried for years.
Fast forward to college. I met Muslim guys. I tried to like Muslim guys. I quickly realized that most of these boys were still in their douchebag stages. While the countdown till marriage had already begun for me (nearly every relative was asking when I would get married), these boys had no such worry. They were free to have as many casual relationships as they wanted (as long as their parents were unaware, of course). Taking a brown girl as a significant other was too big of a commitment; they knew what sort of pressures brown women face at home (especially those who still live at home). So they would play the field and eventually settle “when the time was right (for them).”
The other guys I met were douchebags within their own rights. Their initial interest lay in the fact that I was not white. It was around this time that I grew a strict intolerance for the word “exotic.”
The problem with so many South Asian cultures is that there is a complete lack of dialogue on relationships and sexuality. How are you supposed to transition from daughter to wife with virtually no conversation between the two stages? The lack of dialogue has carried from the motherland into the diaspora. Children of immigrants find themselves torn between the culture they’re born into and the culture they’re raised into. The juxtaposition of the openness in acknowledging sexuality in one culture whilst the entire subject matter is so taboo in the other leaves most of us feeling lost and confused as we try to navigate the already murky waters of our hyphenated identity.
I’m still keeping my relationship a secret from my parents. While they acknowledge that I have friends of the opposite gender, it is still mostly an abstract concept, the sad reality of raising children in the West. Being unable to talk about boys in the home still is a habit and its consequences still affect my life today. I have no idea what a mature, healthy relationship looks like (I’m learning though, in large part due to efforts of my boyfriend).
Relationships are formative experiences for everyone. Western culture is so open about emotion (sometimes too open) but discussion is sparked so much easier than it is in South Asian culture. This is isn’t to say, of course, that South Asian women aren’t willing to start the dialogue – about dating, about relationships, about interracial and interfaith relations. It’s hopeful to imagine a future where articles for 20-something-year-old South Asian women in relationships saturate the Internet, but, for now, the battle for acceptance and struggle for empowerment in relationships starts at home.