Pardon the cliche, it's about getting along
RHODORA KAHNY LODI COUNTY, CALIFORNIA
My first summer of residence in the US was
intense, the way vivid colors show sharply on a
black background.
Photos of prisoner torture from Abu Ghraib were
coming to light.
As I sat in my parents-in-law’s living room and talk
swirled about the horror of the stark pictures, I
couldn’t help thinking about all the other atrocities
Americans had done in my own country, many of
them still undisclosed and undocumented,
unknown to the American general public.
I thought it was particularly ironic that a Filipino-
American general, whose father survived Japanese
atrocities in the Bataan Death March, investigated
and compiled the report on Abu Ghraib.
Less than two months later, Ronald Reagan died
and the whole country was in mourning for and in
celebration of the Great Communicator who led the
country to the end the Cold War.
Again, my thoughts led me back to the Philippines
and the Reagans’ allies, the Marcoses. I won’t even
go into the emotions that roiled in me then.
Meanwhile, my husband, Jim, and I, spoiled from
living in courteous, customer-service-oriented
Japan, were being driven around by a big, blustery
real estate agent who was more interested in
getting us to quickly pick a house so he could get
back to watching the Sacramento Kings play, than
helping us look for our overpriced dream house.
In the end, we settled for a 15-year-old bungalow
that was way beyond our original budget and way
smaller than what we had expected.
And so, here we are, navigating through the maze
of multiracial coupling in California.
Some days, after several twists and turns, we
stumble onto the light. For example, he’s quietly
Lutheran and I’m a rebellious Catholic. Often, we
go to his church where I seem to be among the
token minority in a predominantly Caucasian
community.
Sometimes, when I miss the chaos of home, we go
to the Catholic church where babies scream and
toddlers run around and the parish priest has a
strong Visayan accent that mangles his vowels, but
probably endears him to one and all.
Jim doesn’t like fish or anything smelling like it. I
miss it and on the days when I get home early from
work, I break out the tuna and open the windows
wide so when he gets home, he can concentrate
on his meat and potatoes.
We have a standing agreement. When we’re
around his family, I agree with whatever he
decides. When we’re around mine, he agrees with
whatever I decide. When we’re in our own turf, it’s a
level playing field. Let the games begin!
There are still moments when I catch our images in
mirrors and I wonder how a dark runt like me
ended up with a pale rod like him.
Then, I remember what brought us together. I’d love
to say it was unadulterated lust, but it was teaching
English that started it all.
From that boring beginning, we learned about more
bland stuff about each other and more quirky stuff,
and thought, hey, we could actually stay together
and carve out a life together – diverse, but not
entirely different; in tune, invoking harmonizing
voices.
Sometimes, we fall apart and rant and rave about it.
More often than not, we seem to make good
progress and shuffle along. I hate to repeat the
cliche, but skin color and cultures aside, it’s all
about getting along.
RHODORA KAHNY LODI COUNTY, CALIFORNIA
My first summer of residence in the US was
intense, the way vivid colors show sharply on a
black background.
Photos of prisoner torture from Abu Ghraib were
coming to light.
As I sat in my parents-in-law’s living room and talk
swirled about the horror of the stark pictures, I
couldn’t help thinking about all the other atrocities
Americans had done in my own country, many of
them still undisclosed and undocumented,
unknown to the American general public.
I thought it was particularly ironic that a Filipino-
American general, whose father survived Japanese
atrocities in the Bataan Death March, investigated
and compiled the report on Abu Ghraib.
Less than two months later, Ronald Reagan died
and the whole country was in mourning for and in
celebration of the Great Communicator who led the
country to the end the Cold War.
Again, my thoughts led me back to the Philippines
and the Reagans’ allies, the Marcoses. I won’t even
go into the emotions that roiled in me then.
Meanwhile, my husband, Jim, and I, spoiled from
living in courteous, customer-service-oriented
Japan, were being driven around by a big, blustery
real estate agent who was more interested in
getting us to quickly pick a house so he could get
back to watching the Sacramento Kings play, than
helping us look for our overpriced dream house.
In the end, we settled for a 15-year-old bungalow
that was way beyond our original budget and way
smaller than what we had expected.
And so, here we are, navigating through the maze
of multiracial coupling in California.
Some days, after several twists and turns, we
stumble onto the light. For example, he’s quietly
Lutheran and I’m a rebellious Catholic. Often, we
go to his church where I seem to be among the
token minority in a predominantly Caucasian
community.
Sometimes, when I miss the chaos of home, we go
to the Catholic church where babies scream and
toddlers run around and the parish priest has a
strong Visayan accent that mangles his vowels, but
probably endears him to one and all.
Jim doesn’t like fish or anything smelling like it. I
miss it and on the days when I get home early from
work, I break out the tuna and open the windows
wide so when he gets home, he can concentrate
on his meat and potatoes.
We have a standing agreement. When we’re
around his family, I agree with whatever he
decides. When we’re around mine, he agrees with
whatever I decide. When we’re in our own turf, it’s a
level playing field. Let the games begin!
There are still moments when I catch our images in
mirrors and I wonder how a dark runt like me
ended up with a pale rod like him.
Then, I remember what brought us together. I’d love
to say it was unadulterated lust, but it was teaching
English that started it all.
From that boring beginning, we learned about more
bland stuff about each other and more quirky stuff,
and thought, hey, we could actually stay together
and carve out a life together – diverse, but not
entirely different; in tune, invoking harmonizing
voices.
Sometimes, we fall apart and rant and rave about it.
More often than not, we seem to make good
progress and shuffle along. I hate to repeat the
cliche, but skin color and cultures aside, it’s all
about getting along.
We have a standing
agreement. When
we’re around his
family, I agree with
whatever he
decides. When we’
re around mine, he
agrees with
whatever I decide
agreement. When
we’re around his
family, I agree with
whatever he
decides. When we’
re around mine, he
agrees with
whatever I decide
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We asked three
couples in mixed
marriages how they
met, what they
remember most about
that meeting and what
makes the relationship
work.
More than we
imagined, we got a
candid, personal
portrait from each one,
a treasure chest of
heartwarming,
sometimes amusing
anecdotes that prove,
once and for all, that
cultural differences
aside, love unites us.
Mike Raath is a senior
sub-editor on the
South China Morning
Post in Hong Kong
while Levinia used to
work with the defunct
Hong Kong Press
Club.
Andrew Stephen is the
Hong Kong general
manager of United
Airlines. Valerie
Badilla is an executive
at a travel services
company.
Jim and Rhodora
Kahny are both
academics based in
the United States.
couples in mixed
marriages how they
met, what they
remember most about
that meeting and what
makes the relationship
work.
More than we
imagined, we got a
candid, personal
portrait from each one,
a treasure chest of
heartwarming,
sometimes amusing
anecdotes that prove,
once and for all, that
cultural differences
aside, love unites us.
Mike Raath is a senior
sub-editor on the
South China Morning
Post in Hong Kong
while Levinia used to
work with the defunct
Hong Kong Press
Club.
Andrew Stephen is the
Hong Kong general
manager of United
Airlines. Valerie
Badilla is an executive
at a travel services
company.
Jim and Rhodora
Kahny are both
academics based in
the United States.
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