Yesterday I asked my husband the million dollar question. “If you had to do it all over again, would you marry black woman again?” My husband looked and me incredulously and said, I probably wouldn’t get married again period. LOL.
Early on, I explained to M that I bear no resemblance to a stereotypical Indian woman in anyway. I wasn’t going to be subservient, I wasn’t going to be a baby factory and I don’t hold my tongue about whatever is on my heart no matter who it is and I was always going to work until it would be physically impossible for me to do so. I was trying to prepare him for the occasional neck and eyeball roll and hands on the hip that comes sometimes when a sista has had her fill. I don’t think anything prepared him for life with a black woman.
M didn’t realize so much went into the upkeep of our hair. He didn’t realize that Western women juggle a great number of tasks that can sometimes disrupt the flow of daily life. I think that’s been the biggest adjustment for him because both of his sisters are stay at home wives and mothers. His mother had not been in the workforce for a number of years.
But something strange happened along the way of developing relationship. I found myself wanting to do things for him that some may attribute as giving away my power. However, I see my role as his wife as a supportive role and one that when synced with my husband properly, can only serve to strengthen our relationship. M had to learn to adjust his role too. I tease him often about how shocked his family would be if they saw him cooking and folding and ironing clothes. Marriage is a partnership and thankfully we both know we have to do our parts in order for it to succeed. Now that’s not to say that there are not days I have to remind him about how it’s to be a partnership. M likes to remind me that when he married, he married for life, so I’m stuck with him. … Tomorrow I’ll tackle the subject of religion and how M and I have dealt with having different religions. Until the next blog.