But one thing that I think I'd like to write about is how life becomes different when you are in an intercultural relationship for a long while. My ex is from Syria, and didn't move here until he was 25. So he is definitely and permanently "foreign" in a way that earlier transplants are not. I met him when I was 19, and spent the next 15 years of my life fairly well immersed in his culture. Still kind of am, actually. I figured from the beginning that this was not just a part of him but who he actually is, and in order to know him I had to be a part of his language and customs. Also, I like a challenge, so why not conduct a passionate love affair with language barriers to liven things up?
Anyway, 15 years later and I'm no longer sure where the line is that distinguishes me from Arabs, and me from Americans. There are some changes in me that are permanent that separate me from my American life, and some ways of being that will never change that separate me from Arab life. It's an interesting situation to ponder, when I'm in the mood.
Occasionally I have to search for a word in English, because I just don't use it anymore, or because the concept doesn't exist as a word but as a definition. Some of you have been randomly spoken to in Arabic before, I'm sure. And I reflexively stand up and greet new entrances to a room, possibly branding me as overly formal in American culture. It can be hard for me to address elders as casually as we do, and sometimes I'm overwhelmed with the urge to call a non-relative "Auntie". I noticed in Lithuania where we were often squished in close quarters that I absolutely could not get over the bottom of the foot barrier, which is that it is the height of insult and rudeness to direct the bottom of your foot at someone. It would kind of be like sitting across the room from someone with your middle finger up at them. It's really not friendly or nice.
When I'm with Arabs, I get the distinct sense that most of them have never seen my kind of woman, and don't always know what to make of someone like me. I'm opinionated and athletic and pretty unwilling (ha--inner Minnesotan again) to let someone else push me around or speak for me. I'm just so different that they can't relate, until they get to know me better, and then they still can't relate. I am just starting to grasp some of the culture's ideas on conformity, the roots of those ideas, and the fact that I don't need to judge whether or not that particular difference is good or bad. I'm also totally uninterested in some of the social machinations that go on around me, and by uninterested I mean incapable of noticing, understanding, and responding appropriately. Which is excused because I am the foreigner. Which is fucking awesome because in the US it just makes me an ass.
Being tossed into another culture was actually totally liberating for me. There are almost no expectations that you'll know how to be, and if you royally screw up and offer your father-in-law (rest his sweet soul) testicles for breakfast, they'll just love you for trying. And their culture is well defined, because it's old, like Phonecians old, and not all mixed up like ours. Everyone you meet in Syria is Syrian, unlike here where even my own relatives have different regional/cultural/ethnic heritages. Which means that there is such a clear template to follow that even the socially awkward can catch on relatively quickly if you're willing. Same greeting every time, same response.
Arabs are among the warmest most generous people I've known, and I'd say that goes for all that I've met. I'd also say that I don't think intercultural marriage is for everyone, and I would even go so far as to recommend against it much of the time. It either takes tons of awareness or total oblivion, and those qualities are not common. What I've gained from it has been worth the hard parts, but the gains all came at some cost. In the end, though, I'm a broader richer person with insight that I could not have gotten otherwise. For me that's worth it.
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