Being in a Biracial Crosscultural Marriage

We couldn’t be more different on paper. 

My husband grew up in South America.

I grew up in North America.

My husband is from the country.

I lived in a mid-small sized city.

My husband has mainly African and Native American ancestry.

My ancestors are from Europe.

My husband grew up in a family of 13.  He was the baby of the family (4 brothers, 6 sisters)

I grew up in a family of 5.  I am also the baby of the family (1 brother, 1 sister)

My husband did not have a traditional bed with a frame or a bedroom until he was 13.

I shared a room with my sister until I was 18.  We both had our own beds.  (except for the one time we decided to have a big bed and share it…until I broke it.)

My husband had a monkey for a pet.

My parents let me feed a stray cat for a little bit.

My husband did not have an indoor toilet until he was 8.

My house had 2.5 bathrooms-each with a toilet.

My husband didn’t see snow until he was 27.  However, the rain was so intense you could take a shower outside.

I grew up surrounded by the rain of spring, the heat of summer, the beauty of fall, and the cold of winter.

My husband has a six pack.

I am a plus-sized woman.

My husband drives on the left side of the road.

I drive on the right side of the road.

My husband had a divided home.

My parents have been married for 34 years.

My husband could not afford to further his education.

College was an expectation more than a privilege.  (But I am very thankful for my degree and my parents who helped pay for it)

My husband is trilingual.

I speak a little Spanish and Dutch, but it is nowhere near perfect and nowhere near fluent.

My husband used to breakdance.

I was in color guard in school.

My husband takes 3 showers a day.

I take one shower....most days.

This list could go on and on.  But despite being so different, here is some of what we have in common. 

We both love volleyball.

We both grew up playing soccer.

We both are huge nerds.

We both like board games.

We both can make the other laugh.

We both like music and can play the guitar.

Most importantly, we both love Christ.  We pray together and sing worship songs together.  We support each other through times of struggle and celebrate during times of joy.  We share a last name.  We share a family, and we have become one despite all differences. 

Sometimes our different cultures cause conflict.  You do not realize how much your culture and your background defines your actions, thoughts, values, priorities, and so much more until you are put together for a long time with someone who is not the same. 

My husband is my other half.  While I don’t believe in the idea of soulmates, I trust that God knew who my husband would be.  I didn’t write this post for pity for my husband or to emphasize my privilege growing up.  I wrote it because I think it is important to show God’s plan and how it is beyond what we visualize as humans.  Miguel and I never could have expected beyond our wildest imaginations that we would be each other’s spouse.  We often talk about what would have happened if we would have grown up in the same country.  Would our experiences have been drastically different?  Would we sit together at lunch?  Would we play in the same sandbox?

I love looking at our family pictures.  They are so different, but each one of them is filled with life.  I love the family that I received when I married my husband, and he loves the family he got when he married me.  

I love you, boo boo.