When Love Goes
In the course of living in foreign countries, I've had to make a multitude of adjustments to give allowances to cultural differences. One of the more significant adjustments have a lot of do with variations in how relationships are perceived. Much of what happens next depends largely on these perceptions. A very good example is how in-law relationships meld where I come from.
In the Philippines, marriage also involves the meshing of two families. You don't just marry your intended, you also "marry" into the family. Hence, my husband's parents would be my second set of parents as if we each had adopted each other. And my parents would in turn, 'adopt' my husband and treat him just like a son and he in turn, would give them the respect that he would reserve for his parents. This same principle would apply to siblings. There are relationships formed that don't even translate in some cultures. My parents, for example, would form a unique bond with my husband's parents. Each set would call the other "bala-e"; a term that does not exist nor have any equivalent in the English language because well, that relationship does not exist in western cultures. Each set of parents invest in and create a bond with each other primarily for the purpose of supporting and watching out for their children's welfare and happiness. In America, unless both set of parents already have an existing close friendship, that does not happen. The relationship between my siblings and my husband's siblings is called "kinakapatid" which loosely means "a newly formed sister-brother relationship". Each set of siblings also invest in a close familial relationship. And more importantly, the respect that siblings have for their older siblings also is transferred to older siblings of my husband. Younger siblings never talk back at older siblings and children never talk back at parents. It is doggone difficult for me to see how this kind of respect does not exist in western culture. The lack of this kind of respect is totally devastating to me and I've had to adjust to this appalling discovery. And this adjustment, the sheer difficulty of it, to accept the lack of this respect, is something that my inlaws will never, ever appreciate. Ever. My inlaws sometimes forget that I come from a culture totally different from theirs. Or perhaps, they simply don't care because the burden of adjusting must come from me. Hence, my efforts are always invisible and unappreciated. It is difficult to bridge that gap because well, I am the only one who has to walk across it since that bridge is invisible to them as well!
When I got married, I expected that if I treated and loved my husband's parents and siblings as if they were my own parents and siblings, they would reciprocate that same love. I was wrong. It took a few years before I figured out that that type of relationship does not exist in western culture. Americans call their in-laws by their first name which is so very foreign to me. Also, there is no such thing as reverence for older siblings in western culture. I also discovered that showing love for family is totally different--not bad necessarily but different. There is a definite line that cannot be crossed. While in Filipino culture, we treat inlaws as real family, in America, that is not so. For example, in my culture, I would be an "aunt" to my husband's siblings' children and would be accorded the respect that comes with that title. In reality, I am nobody to my husband's siblings' children. They call me by my first name which in my culture can be vulgar and disrespectful. I cannot refer to them as my "nieces and nephews" because, well, they're not according to their culture. Or at least, that's what I was told. So I am not their aunt. I'm nobody. I'm just my husband's wife. Consequently, no relationship is fostered. I come from a culture where my parents' friends were called "aunts and uncles" and for some of them, they really were just like my aunts and uncles. Even with my children, my best friends are like aunts and uncles to them. We share each other's graduations and accomplishments. We each take interest in each other's children. My husband's siblings don't show any interest in my children and neither do their spouses. That would not happen in Filipino culture. But to my extreme sadness, such is the case in American culture. Of course, this is just my own personal observation based on my one and only marriage. I could be totally wrong. Or this could just be unique to my husband's family. And if it is, that makes me very sad. So, except for a couple of my husband's nieces and nephews, I don't even try since in his family, his siblings don't have any meaningful relationships with each other.
The consequences of these differences is totally lost to my inlaws but not to me. It makes me feel like I am in total limbo.
In the past, I really wanted to be just a part of the family---to love freely, be accepted totally the way I am and feel like a daughter, a sister, an aunt. But things have changed. I now see things in the same way that they see things. I am simply, my husband's wife--not a daughter, not a sister, not an aunt.
Consequently, I've had to rewire my thinking and expectations. I no longer expect to be part of what I consider family within the scope of my culture because that is simply unfair to my inlaws. Those relationships do not exist. I've had to take my cues from the way they treat me and from my perception, there is a wide chasm that exists between me and them and I can't cross it without being hurt. It simply feels like that love that I had has gone and has been replaced by a different kind of love---one that I do not understand myself because I do not know where it came from nor how to define it because it is foreign to me. I've had to redefine my expectations of what 'family' means to me and what role I play in his family---which by all I know means that I am definitely NOT family but again, just the woman who married their son or their brother. So since this is all new to me, I needed to change since I am the 'outsider'. Though love is love no matter what culture, race or creed, the ways in which we show and expect to be loved can be so different and at times, needs some translation. And since there is not much communication that exists anyway in the first place, it has become quite a feat for me to understand what the heck is going on.
Communication in my husband's family mostly consists of small talk, news about people in the old neighborhood and when irritated, disappointed or vexed, a veiled insult or reproach that you do not realize is an insult until much later. Or, there could simply be no words at all--just uncomfortable lapses between the small talk. I rarely if ever, hear any compliments, endearments or anyone addressing differences or problems to smooth over misunderstandings or address emotions. It's as if we are all just strangers pretending to have some kind of family relationship that I don't understand. There's a lot of self-deprecation, a unique kind of sarcasm, and endless teasings and put downs about BYU where all my children attended or still attend college. You cannot state an opinion without a hush coming down upon the family and you feel like you need to wet your pants. And no one ever asks how each is doing as if showing some interest in each other's lives is on the family list of things that you don't discuss or simply verboten. It's so...strange. I wish I had that list 26 years ago. So, I find myself lamenting a loss that quite frankly, I realize now, only existed in my head in the first place. And to fit in, I no longer try to be exuberant in my affections or excitement about things...but to take a cue from them and just be indifferent. My exuberance or affections have often been spurned, criticized or misunderstood. To fit in, I need to maintain my distance and not expect any kind of validation or familial loyalty. If I do not fit in, then there is no acceptance. And through the years I've discovered that there definitely is a cultural difference in how we perceive being 'part of the family' is about. Being an outsider in many aspects, it has become incumbent upon me to make the adjustments entirely.
My love has gone and been replaced by an unknown kind of love. The love did not die, it just changed. It's like singing a happy tune whilst others are humming a dirge and at the same time, others treat your happy song like a dirge. Eventually, you have to hum the dirge. You're still singing. But it's a dirge.
