Loving him

“Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into friend.”

Martin Luther King Jr.

I am envious. I am envious that they don't know what a visa is because bouncing from country to country is not a problem to them. I am envious that they can study anywhere in the world because they have it easy on bureaucracy. I am envious that they are complacent of where they are and not have long separate queues in airports for their overseas workers. I am envious of their beautiful, well-preserved, towering architectures unscathed from wars. I am envious of their crystal clear potable tap. I am envious that they've never experienced horrible 3-hour long traffic jams. I am envious that they haven't seen children dying from starvation nor malnourishment. I am envious that they haven't seen anyone being beaten, tortured nor raped to death. I am envious that they don't understand why people steal, kill or take drugs. I am envious that most of them are humanitarians or philanthropists because they hear about the injustices and they have the means to help out. I am envious of the promotions and high salaries just because they are white. I am envious that they can party hard all weekend and not worry about a weekend job. I am envious of their artists who, despite being just as talented and good-looking as the unknown ones in my country, are recognized globally. I am envious of their scientists who, despite being just as smart and creative as the unknown ones in my country, are recognized globally. I am envious that their government prioritizes welfare, health, and education. I am envious that abortion is legal. I am envious that divorce is legal. I am envious that same sex marriage is legal. I am envious that they never felt liable to what their ancestors did to my country nor felt liable to being one of the biggest contributors to climate change. I am envious that they can dream big. I am envious that they still feel dissatisfied in life despite being given so much privilege. Yet I cannot tell them that I am envious because they cannot understand the privilege they own. Even if I open up the topic, I'm sure they'll just shrug their shoulders and say, "Whadya talkin about? Life is good and all is fair" or "Not our problem your country's in deep shit!" So I shut my mouth, laugh it all off and pretend that what they say does not affect me but it does. It does in so many ways...

Alex, my boyfriend is just like them even if he thinks he is pure Catalan and sometimes denies his Spanish ancestry. Least I can do to work things out with him is to give myself the right headspace to understand where he is coming from otherwise I'm just gonna be one of those girlfriends who gave up on their boyfriends just because culturally "we don't jive..."

I don't believe that there is a culture that is more or less superior than the others. I especially do not believe that culture nor race constraints our ability to love. If anything, love is the only key to understanding the ego, to understanding illusions and cultural barriers…

I must admit, loving him is not always easy. We don't agree on all things. Take yesterday as an example. We ate at a Thai restaurant. Well, they tried their best to disguise the interiors, the aesthetics and the menu as "authentic Thai" but it doesn't come close to "authentic". The pad thai was the most disappointing. Alex thought that it tasted good but it left my taste buds feeling salty, heavy, and unsatisfied. There was too much soy sauce in the pad thai. I did not taste the tanginess of the tamarind paste nor the right saltiness of the fish sauce. They did not generously serve cilantro, lime, eggs and peanuts and the rice noodles was too mushy and annorexic.

Kez always tells me that Westerners tend to change the recipe of foreign foods to adjust it to their palates. And voila! It automatically becomes the standard of quality food just because they say so. Kez also told me that we should talk about food because it's political. I now understand why...They first set a standard for good food before analyzing what makes foods foreign to them taste good just the way they are.

At the end of the day, it's all about Western standards. A chicken will always be a chicken to them in spite of it really being a duck. And what can we non-westerners do about it? Must we accept powerlessness and simply accept the Western standards of "good food"? I'm not sure I can do that but I'm not sure I can impose my opinions on food on them either. I respect that their taste buds are not well adjusted to "exotic foods" but to me nothing compares to the well balanced flavor of a good pad thai—the balance of acidity, tanginess, nuttiness, and earthiness. Then again, that's just me.

I always try to remind Alex that a culture that deviates their norm is not weird nor is less superior to Western culture. I hope he understood me and can now find symmetry between the illusions of cultural barriers and a good pad thai.