I was living in my hometown, Chicago, working at an okay job and living in a cute lakefront condo. The kids were grown and I lived alone. The man I was dating proposed and I happily became engaged. We were both in our late 40s and had previous marriages under our belts so we knew, without hesitation, that this was the right thing. Here’s the catch – marrying my beloved meant leaving behind all that was familiar. My familiar included family, friends, work, even culture – all the marbles. He was an American expatriate working in China and I was going to join him. Me, a Black woman born on the south side of Chicago, going to live on what was literally the other side of the world.
Like many Black families, mine is traditional in some ways. We enjoy family reunions, go to church, sometimes dip a bit too deeply into each other’s business, have our squabbles but manage to somehow “be there” for one another. Most times we feel the love. That said, when I told them the plan, the resounding response was, “YOU’RE GOING WHERE?!” It seemed everyone had their own notions of what life in China would be for us. Girl, you know they’re Communist over there and you’ll be persecuted for being a Christian. Ooh, so many people. They have some strange notions of personal hygiene. What will you eat? Do they have cable TV? And my personal favorite from my soon to be mother-in-law…Hmmm, they have lots of silk and pearls in China don’t they?
Well I sucked it all up and undaunted by the folks who love me, started making plans. My heart’s twin was in China and I was going to be with him. My fiancée and I decided I would come to China for a month, just to make sure I really was okay with this whole thing. We also planned to figure out when and where we would get married. It was important that he remain outside the U.S. for tax reasons and we were certain we could not get married in China. So, I used up the last of my vacation days, took some unpaid leave and headed to Beijing.
