In my previous post, I wrote about how it became easy for me to date outside of my race without fear of judgement, but telling my parents I was dating someone was a totally different ball game. I'm not speaking for all Tamils, but I will tell you how the Tamil culture shaped my experience growing up, how my parents tried to push the arranged marriage idea on me, and how I finally got the guts to tell my parents about my black boyfriend.
Growing up, my parents made it very clear that I wasn't allowed to date anyone, until I was in University. To them, the most important thing that a young Tamil girl should focus on during her formative years was education. That is, getting A+'s and entering a reputable University. I'm sure many of you can relate to that. They even told me word for word, "once you get into University, you'll be smart enough to choose a good partner." To some, these ideas may seem prehistoric, but I always considered my parents pretty liberal, being Tamil and all. I thought that them even being open to letting me date and choosing my own partner was groundbreaking, considering they themselves had an arranged marriage.
My parents not only told me that I wasn't allowed to date until I was in university, but also that when I did choose a partner, he had to be Tamil (and by choosing a partner, they obviously meant someone I would marry). Even though I'd already broken the first part of the rule, I didn't mind the second part, because at the time, I had eyes for Tamil guys. I was curious though, why Tamil? I'd often ask them that, and get many valid answers. Well for one, I would be able to preserve my culture for generations onward. Secondly, our families would be able to relate to each other and get along well. There would be no language barrier between relatives who don't speak English well, which would imply he wouldn't feel uncomfortable in social settings. What about religion and spirituality? How would we raise our kids? Oh, and there was the cooking factor. Would he eat Tamil food? What would you cook? When listening to all of their reasons and questions, it made sense. These were all important things to consider before marrying someone. These were all problems a Tamil couple wouldn't have to worry about.
As I entered my early to mid-twenties, and single, my parents began to worry and started wavering on their rules, discussing the idea of arranged marriages. For some reason, they felt that their "duty" as a parent was incomplete unless I was married. They started asking me if I knew any "suitable" guys. What about this guy that you hang out with? We like his family. This guy over here is studying to be a doctor. When I discussed this with a friend of mine, she pretty much told me that all the good guys were taken, and my prospects were bleak, no insult intended. Feeling low from what I had heard, I tried to picture what my life would be like with some of the guys my parents suggested. I even went out on unofficial dates with this one guy that my parents really liked, although he had no idea we were even talking about him. Everything was perfect on pen and paper, except the fact that I had zero romantic feelings for him. I realized that arranged marriages and even blind dating was not for me.
So when I finally met the love of my life, you can imagine how difficult it was to muster up the courage to tell my parents that he was the one. I knew it wouldn't be easy. Let's cut to the chase. It wouldn't be easy because he's black. Never mind the fact that he's actually half white, because to my parents, and much of society, an ounce of colour denotes you're not "pure". Also, it wouldn't be easy because we weren't at the stage where we were ready to get married. We loved each other, we were crazy about each other and we spent all of our free time together, but we didn't set a date and time for when we'd tie the knot. This made it harder. I had to tell them that I was dating a guy, who wasn't Tamil, who's mixed and we weren't sure if we were getting married or not. Telling my parents was inevitable though, because the signs were all pointing to the fact that I was dating someone seriously. I was either out every weekend or had my door closed, quietly conversing. It became difficult because I started becoming resentful of my parents wishes and I knew it was time to share the truth with them.
I started off telling them that I was seeing someone, but not to ask any further questions. I explained that I would tell them once I was sure he was the one. This made them slightly happy because at least I wasn't a lost cause, at least I had some prospects for marriage. Two to three months down the road, my boyfriend (now husband), didn't understand why he couldn't meet my parents, why he had to be a secret, and I knew I wasn't being fair to him. I had to tell my parents. I couldn't buy any more time from him or my parents. I couldn't prolong the inevitable. I was an adult now, and it was time to put my foot down. I've always been the black sheep, so why stop now.
I sat my mother down one day, because I knew it was her I had to win over and I told her everything. I told her about how wonderful this man was, how inspiring and intelligent he was. How reflective and what a deep-thinker he was. How caring and affectionate he was, and how I was truly happy. I showed her his blog and some pictures of his family. I told her that she had to meet him because we "probably" were getting married. I didn't give her a chance to speak because my strategy was to flood her brain with all of the reasons why she should like him. As I was talking, I knew it was a good sign that she didn't take the broom stick out to beat me, her way of getting control over me when I was a young child. When I finally said all of the things I remembered to say, I looked up at her and waited. She began to speak and her tone wasn't angry. Phew, that was another good sign. Her tone instead was one of a worried mother. She had loads of questions. All of the same questions she'd ask me when I used to ask her why a Tamil guy? I had rebuttals though. Rebuttals for everything. Except one. He's black. I knew what she meant, we all know what she meant, but there's nothing I could do about his skin colour. Her worries stemmed from stereotypes and were borderline prejudiced, but I didn't feel that way about him. I was confident about the man I had chosen and gave her the "he's not like that, he's different" line. That bought me some time, and my mother agreed to meet him.
See my post on WHY YOU SHOULDN'T TELL YOUR PARENTS ABOUT BAE
http://www.browngirlblacksheep.com/2015/04/why-you-shouldnt-tell-your-parents.html
So when I finally met the love of my life, you can imagine how difficult it was to muster up the courage to tell my parents that he was the one. I knew it wouldn't be easy. Let's cut to the chase. It wouldn't be easy because he's black. Never mind the fact that he's actually half white, because to my parents, and much of society, an ounce of colour denotes you're not "pure". Also, it wouldn't be easy because we weren't at the stage where we were ready to get married. We loved each other, we were crazy about each other and we spent all of our free time together, but we didn't set a date and time for when we'd tie the knot. This made it harder. I had to tell them that I was dating a guy, who wasn't Tamil, who's mixed and we weren't sure if we were getting married or not. Telling my parents was inevitable though, because the signs were all pointing to the fact that I was dating someone seriously. I was either out every weekend or had my door closed, quietly conversing. It became difficult because I started becoming resentful of my parents wishes and I knew it was time to share the truth with them.
I started off telling them that I was seeing someone, but not to ask any further questions. I explained that I would tell them once I was sure he was the one. This made them slightly happy because at least I wasn't a lost cause, at least I had some prospects for marriage. Two to three months down the road, my boyfriend (now husband), didn't understand why he couldn't meet my parents, why he had to be a secret, and I knew I wasn't being fair to him. I had to tell my parents. I couldn't buy any more time from him or my parents. I couldn't prolong the inevitable. I was an adult now, and it was time to put my foot down. I've always been the black sheep, so why stop now.
I sat my mother down one day, because I knew it was her I had to win over and I told her everything. I told her about how wonderful this man was, how inspiring and intelligent he was. How reflective and what a deep-thinker he was. How caring and affectionate he was, and how I was truly happy. I showed her his blog and some pictures of his family. I told her that she had to meet him because we "probably" were getting married. I didn't give her a chance to speak because my strategy was to flood her brain with all of the reasons why she should like him. As I was talking, I knew it was a good sign that she didn't take the broom stick out to beat me, her way of getting control over me when I was a young child. When I finally said all of the things I remembered to say, I looked up at her and waited. She began to speak and her tone wasn't angry. Phew, that was another good sign. Her tone instead was one of a worried mother. She had loads of questions. All of the same questions she'd ask me when I used to ask her why a Tamil guy? I had rebuttals though. Rebuttals for everything. Except one. He's black. I knew what she meant, we all know what she meant, but there's nothing I could do about his skin colour. Her worries stemmed from stereotypes and were borderline prejudiced, but I didn't feel that way about him. I was confident about the man I had chosen and gave her the "he's not like that, he's different" line. That bought me some time, and my mother agreed to meet him.
See my post on WHY YOU SHOULDN'T TELL YOUR PARENTS ABOUT BAE
http://www.browngirlblacksheep.com/2015/04/why-you-shouldnt-tell-your-parents.html
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