Identity | Expat Bostonians

The Expat Experience and My Relationship-My story

Posted on June 10, 2013 by Expat Bostonians

For a few months now I’ve wanted to start a series of guest posts about how the expat experience can impact a relationship. With all of my medical and life drama, that ended up on the back burner. However, today I’m going to kick off the series with the story of how our expat experience has affected my marriage.

Namely the story of how becoming an expat saved my marriage.

Ravi and I first started dating in early 2005. Our relationship weathered my first back surgery a few months after our wedding. It weather the loss of a wanted pregnancy. What almost broke it was the aftermath of Elanor’s birth. SHE is not to blame. But the experience of almost losing her and the medical drama we went through as a couple did push us to a point where our marriage very nearly ended.

Elanor’s medical care and the strain it took on us as individuals bled over into our relationship. We lost what had drawn us together, and who we were apart from our roles as Ellie’s parents. Sadly, this is not an uncommon phenomenon-parents of very sick/chronically ill kids have a higher divorce rate than average. Having a child as sick as Ellie was is a huge emotional drain on you as a person. It impacts all of your relationships-I was fairly absent from my friendships, and I didn’t write very much during that time. When Ravi got home, I just wanted a break after all the non-stop parenting (which is par for the course, but I can speak from experience now that it’s a bigger strain when you’re trying to be the liaison for a giant team of doctors and trying to decide which of the 10 different courses of action that 10 different doctors advocated for will be the one your family goes with), and to be alone for a while. It was a lot like when nurses change shifts-we’d update each other but didn’t give care and attention to our relationship. Date nights were extremely rare. Ravi getting laid off did not help things, nor did the stress of a job hunt.

Ravi and I eventually sought counseling, as neither of us wanted a divorce. At the same time, we didn’t know what to do to fix it.

In the midst of all of this came the job offer. Did we want to take the local job and keep our support system, and hope that things would get better? Or did we want to take what was likely the riskier move of moving to Asia where we would only have each other?

It is an oversimplification, of course, to say that becoming an expat was the sole savior of my marriage.

But having a helper at first, which enabled us to have a weekly date night helped. Having to count on each other helped. Having things that were not Elanor to discuss helped. Having new personal challenges helped (especially for me–I’d lost almost my full identity other than E’s mom).

Were there aspects of being an expat that were problematic? Absolutely, especially being here on the same “dependent’s” pass that my child was on-that was a sting to my sense of self. Ravi works a LOT, which can make connecting a challenge.

The difference is that we have realized that we need to reconnect as a couple. We have prioritized our date night. We try to hang out daily, even if it’s just to talk for five minutes (or if we’re really tired, we can watch Daily Show). We touch base via text or instant messenger.

We waited to feel confident in our relationship before we chose to have Rhiannon. While the pregnancy was a challenge, we were able to ride it out. One of the differences between the two children is that we walked into the second pregnancy knowing how crucial it was to stay connected with one another as Crystal and Ravi and not just the girls’ parents.

I think that we would be okay if we moved home in the future. I don’t think that the US is toxic to our relationship. I think that we needed to learn how to be a couple again, and that needing to count on each other in such an intense setting as an expat posting was key to us getting there again.

Filed under: Culture Shock, Expat to Expat Advice, Identity, Random Stuff | 4 Comments »

Boston, you’re my home

Posted on April 23, 2013 by Expat Bostonians

If you want a rehash of the tragic events of last week in Boston, from the Marathon bombing to the capture of Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, go elsewhere. I can’t do it. Every conversation I’ve had for days has gone “Why? I don’t get it. It just doesn’t make sense” before we start rehashing it again, trying to make sense of something that will likely never make sense to me.

As I try to unpack the roller coaster of emotion that this past week has brought, I decided that what I want to do today is share the moments that buoyed me, made me laugh through the tears, and made me wicked proud to be a Bostonian.

The Touching

When people learned that there were many stranded runners and hotel guests who couldn’t get back into their hotels, someone started a googledocs spreadsheet to create a database of people willing to open their homes. Within 20 minutes, there were over 1,000 entries. Within 24, over 5,000. More here.

source-@callyd86 via the article linked below

The London Marathon paid tribute to Boston in a number of ways, including passing out black ribbons to every runner,and a moment of silence. Further, the London Marathon donated 2£ for every runner who finished to The One Fund Boston, amounting to US 100k. For more, read this article.

MIT’s Green Building, the tallest building in Cambridge, MA (21 stories, 300 feet tall) used its windows to pay tribute. On Monday, they lit the windows to resemble the US Flag. On April 20th, they lit it in a black window to pay tribute to the fallen MIT police officer, Sean Collier. source.

Dunkin’ Donuts (invented in Quincy, MA-just south of Boston) gave free coffee and donuts to law enforcement and first responders during the lockdown. By the time the lockdown happened, most of the morning employees were already at work, or at the 24 hour locations. more here

A Brookline Police Officer brought milk to a family with young children in Watertown during the lockdown.

The Funny

Comedian and Faux-Journalist Stephen Colbert’s funny and moving tribute to Boston during the open of his April 16th show-transcript in case the video is geo-blocked.

Look, before we begin, I just want to take a moment to talk about the attack in Boston yesterday. Obviously our thoughts and our prayers are with everybody there. And as the President said, we don’t know who did this, but they will be found and they will be brought to justice.

But whoever did this, obviously did not know shit about the people of Boston—because nothing these terrorists do is going to shake them. For Pete’s sake, Boston was founded by the Pilgrims, a people so tough they had to buckle their goddamn hats on. It is the cradle of the American Revolution—a city that withstood an 86-year losing streak; a city that made it through the Big Dig, a construction project that backed up traffic for 16 years! There are commuters just getting home now. Even their bands are tough. It’s the hometown of Aerosmith who, in their fifth decade, are still going strong. Even Steven Tyler looks fantastic— for a 73-year-old woman.

But here’s what these cowards really don’t get: They attacked the Boston Marathon, an event celebrating people who run 26 miles – on their day off until their nipples are raw – for fun. And they have been holding it in Boston since 1897. And do you know how tough you have to be to run in a wale-bone corset? And when those bombs went off there were runners, who, after finishing a marathon, kept running for another two miles to the hospital to donate blood.

So, here’s what I know: These maniacs may have tried to make life bad for the people of Boston, but all they could ever do, is show just how good those people are.

Now. This is The Colbert Report.

Reason #13-Someone lovingly puts winter scarves on the bronze duck statues from Make Way for Ducklings

The Buzzfeed “29 Reasons to Love Boston” is truly a beautiful and hilarious love letter to Boston.

What happens when you have a one-night stand, only to wake up in a locked down city? If you’re Dan McCarthy, you write about it.

And it was then when I realized I had a problem. The whole city was locked down. Taxis were suspended. Public transit shuttered. Cops were going house to house. Armored vehicles were roaming the streets. No one could go out. You weren’t even supposed to open the door unless it was for a cop.

With a deadline to hit and a cell phone running on 8% battery, it quickly became clear that my plan to quietly slip out and return home to fulfill my work obligations would be a near impossible feat. I was trapped. And what was meant to be a discreet exit was now an agonizingly gratuitous small-scale walk of shame across the apartment from the bedroom to the bathroom. I paused in the living room to offer up an uncomfortable morning salutation to the roommate, who sat on the couch wearing a robe and a distinct “who the hell is this guy?” look on her face. Yup.

Read more: One Night Stand in Wartime – Attacks on Boston – Esquire
http://www.esquire.com/blogs/culture/lust-during-wartime#ixzz2RCn17smI

This became a thing. I may need to buy this as a keychain at the very least.

Sweet Caroline

There have been a number of “Sweet Caroline” tributes or references you may have seen on my twitter/fb/etc page and wondered “what the hell is with Boston and this freaking song?” It’s a big enough deal that it gets its own category, that’s what.

To say that Boston is a sports town is an understatement. The B of the Boston Red Sox logo has become a symbol of the city itself. Fans of the baseball team are referred to as “Red Sox Nation.” If Red Sox Nation had a national anthem, it would be “Sweet Caroline.” For over 10 years, the song has been played during the 7th inning stretch at every single last home game since 2002 (and I attended games before that when we sang it). source It is a song that Boston has embraced as our own.

Many fellow sports teams, baseball and other played Sweet Caroline to honor/respond to the Boston Tragedy. But when the New York Yankees did so, I burst into tears.

Boston and New York have a bit of a rivalry going, most frequently expressed via baseball. We do major trash talking of one another (for example, just as I can buy a baby a “Red Sox Nation” bib, I can also get a “Yankees Drool” bib-one of the milder examples I could share). Amongst one group of my friends there was/is a discussion thread devoted to Sox/Yankees trash talking-clocking in a 100+ pages last I checked. So when the Yankees–our bitter rival, played it in tribute (complete with our “bum, bum, bum” and “so good so goo so good” additions, a Fenway tradition)–well, I still can’t get through the following video without crying. The Boston/NYC relationship is best expressed as a contentious sibling relationship–we trash talk, mock and otherwise insult one another constantly. But we stand together when tragedy strikes.

On Saturday, April 20th, after Dzhokhar Tsarnaev’s arrest on Friday, Neil Diamond boarded a 4:30 am flight to Boston. He showed up 40 minutes before game time at Fenway and offered to sing live in tribute. Below you’ll see what a Boston crowd at Fenway can do with our anthem. Not Neil’s best performance, but you can hear him getting understandably choked up at various points. Afterward, the crowd starts chanting “thank you, thank you, thank you”

That same game marked the return of one of our most beloved players, David Ortiz after an injury that took him out of commission last August. Ortiz is lovingly known in Boston as “Big Papi,” and he’s a colorful local personality.

Designated hitter David Ortiz said, ‘this is our f*cking city’ after a memorial video showing the past few days, played on the big screen.Ortiz said, ”This jersey that we wear today, it doesn’t say Red Sox. It says Boston…’We want to thank you, Mayor Menino, Governor Patrick, the whole police department for the great job they did this past week. This is our f*cking city, and nobody is going to dictate our freedom. Stay strong.”

The Red Sox wore crisp white uniforms that simply read ‘Boston,’ with a ‘B Strong’ logo. The team said their uniforms would be autographed and auctioned to raise money for the One Fund Boston charity established to help the victims.
http://onefundboston.org/

Law enforcement and first responders later walked onto the field and formed a line in front of the Red Sox dugout.

Moments of silence were then held for Marathon victims, eight-year-old Martin Richard, Krystle Campbell and Lu Lingzi and MIT police officer Sean Collier, who was killed Thursday night in a shootout between the Tsarnaev brothers. source

And finally….

Of every image that went viral, I think the following was the one I saw the most.

Boston is not unique in tragedy. Right now China has suffered a major earthquake, people live in fear of far scarier events daily in other parts of the world, and there is so much wrong we need to right. But even after tragedy struck this close to home, I still believe that the vast majority of people on this planet are good people. I believe that we most of us leave the world a little better than we found it each day, even if it’s a simple compliment that may have made someone’s day and not an act of heroism. Do not lose faith in humanity. There are always people who are helping.

Filed under: Boston, Identity, politics | Leave a Comment »

Lapped

Posted on January 14, 2013 by Expat Bostonians

Defining oneself as an expat (at least to me) implies some level of transience. Sometimes it’s a month (as my time in France as a student was), and sometimes it’s years. But you always have the intention of going home…eventually. If you stay put long enough, you start to see your friends move on-going to a new posting or going home.

This past weekend, we visited with a friend who is heading back to the US at the end of the month. She will be the third expat friend who has left since we arrived in April of 2010, but she is the first who arrived and left during my sojourn here.

While I don’t give much thought on a day to day basis to the idea of repatriation, having a friend repatriate gives you pause. It makes you mentally try the idea on for size. I tried it on, and it doesn’t fit right now.

(I meant to type “it doesn’t fit.” I typed “it doesn’t fit right now.” I find that interesting-which is why I mention it.)

When you become an expat, there are phases you go through in your adjustment to living in a new country. I borrowed the following quote from the always excellent Maria‘s post on Culture Shock.

Many models of culture shock have been proposed since Canadian anthropologist Kalervo Oberg outlined his theory during a presentation to the Women’s Club of Rio de Janeiro in 1954. Oberg’s version encompassed four phases:

Honeymoon: In this stage, the expatriate views the new surroundings with a tourist’s perspective. There is a sense of euphoria because everything is new and exciting.

Rejection: Oberg referred to this as the “crisis” stage. The expat begins to notice things in the new culture that don’t make sense. This disorientation leads to animosity toward the culture and its people, because nothing is the way it “should” be, and the expat feels confused and helpless.

Regression: Once the host culture is rejected, the expat reverts to the familiar comfort of the home culture, which is now seen through rose-coloured glasses. The expatriate complains constantly, and chooses to remain isolated from the host culture.

Recovery: Finally, the feelings of isolation begin to decrease. The expat feels more comfortable and in control of life in the new environment. With equilibrium restored, acceptance of the situation is now possible.

It is in the recovery stage that expats start to adjust and grow attached to their new culture. “When you go on home leave you may even take things back with you,” Oberg said, “and if you leave for good, you generally miss the country and the people to whom you have become accustomed.”

When we first moved here, I constantly was adding posts to my culture shock category of this blog. But over time, that has slowed. Things about Singapore still frustrate me. Things about Singapore still baffle me. But overall, I feel as though I’ve got my footing. And in the day to day minutiae of raising two kids, grocery shopping, and a slew of other mundane things I’d do regardless of the country, I don’t spend a lot of time missing the US (well, I miss Target, but who wouldn’t?).

And my friends. I do miss you guys.

Today, when I think about repatriation, I shake my head and say “later, not now.” Ellie is in a wonderful K program, and I wouldn’t want to move home this year when it would be a huge fight for me to get her into a K program this coming September (most US schools require that you’re 5 on the first September 1, and E won’t turn 5 until November–an extremely “late” birthday by modern US standards). I don’t want to tackle the issue that in K1 she’s doing US 1st grade work–that 2 year gap is going to be an issue when we move back, and I just don’t want to think about dealing with it (nor do I want to open up a discussion about dealing with it in comments–I’m bringing it up to illustrate a point–that repatriation is going to involve a lot of hard choices and I just don’t really want to think about them at the moment. For the record, I’m compiling a portfolio of her work to demonstrate what she’s been doing, so I’m not totally head in the sand on this particular issue). I don’t want to think about how we’ll ensure that she keeps up with Mandarin. I really don’t want to think about how upset Ellie will be to leave Singapore, which she considers her home–the US is where her grandparents live and we visit. I know we’ll miss having so much Indian culture easily available for the girls. I will really miss the ease with which adults interact with the girls–I have no patience for the stranger danger/everyone is going to abduct my kid/everything will hurt my baby so I’m going to put them in a bubble culture. I’ll miss my friends here.

When we visit home, I enjoy that I can crack a joke and that I can fit in easily (although, less so the longer time passes). But I also can recognize how out of step I am in the US when it comes to many things–and the seriousness with which we take academics and what we consider appropriate curriculum at what age fits in FAR better here in Singapore than it does in the US. I love seeing my friends. I hate seeing how different it all is (and knowing that gap will keep growing between what was and what is). I love experiencing seasons other than really fucking hot all the time, but don’t feel the need to visit when it’s freezing because I don’t particularly miss shoveling snow or scraping ice off my car.

So it is with sadness that we say good-bye to another friend. But is it with content that I wave good-bye. Because I want to stay put for the moment.

Leaving means leaving our new friends. Darn it, why can’t you all fit in my pocket?

Filed under: Culture Shock, Expat to Expat Advice, Identity, Third Culture Kids | 4 Comments »

What do they look like?

Posted on December 12, 2012 by Expat Bostonians

“What does she look like?”

The police officer meant my daughter’s race. She looked up at me, exasperated by my lack of response to her question. I hadn’t responded as I hadn’t been blindsided by this sort of casual racism in years. I needed a minute to collect myself, to process what she had just asked me.

Let me back up. Through an act of utter stupidity for which I bear all responsibility, someone had helped themselves to my purse in Las Vegas. I’d set it down to watch the Dancing Fountains in front of The Bellagio Hotel. Distracted after the show, I’d walked away from it, and had not realized I’d done so for 5+ minutes. Naturally, when I went back, it was gone. Inside the purse was my wallet (which had my Singaporean ID, the girl’s SG IDs, credit cards, and some cash) and Ravi’s and my passports.

Possibly my favorite thing in Vegas, but all in all, I’d prefer to have not been so mesmerized that I forgot my purse.

To make the process of passport and identification replacement smooth, I went down to the Las Vegas police station to file a report. I had no expectation of ever seeing my wallet again, the credit cards were already canceled, and the passports reported missing with the appropriate authorities (and an appointment to get emergency passport replacement already made). But I knew that dealing with red tape would go far smoother if I filed the report and could show it to the proper Passport Agency and Singaporean authorities.

The process of filing the report was routine, even boring, especially as I knew I was only doing so for paperwork purposes. We reviewed the missing items. As we were all “victims,” I had to provide each of our name, date of birth, height, hair color, eye color, weight, and race. This was a fairly straightforward process for myself (white/caucasian), and Ravi (although I had to clarify I meant Indian as in India, and then explain that yes, Indians are Asian by US race classifications). When it came to Elanor, I noted that she was biracial.

“That’s not a category,” the officer replied.

“Other?” I asked. This was what we had marked Elanor on the 2010 US census, and our default when there is no option for biracial. (In SG there is “Eurasian” which is accurate enough, but is not a category in the US).

Annoyed, the officer looked at me and asked “What does she look like?“

Ellie, discovering the joy of a hotdog on a stick and adorably mussed

What does she look like?

Caucasians remark upon her gorgeous “natural tan.”
Indians praise her for being so “light.”
When she’s with me, people tend to assume she’s white.
When she’s with Ravi, people tend to assume she’s Indian.

She looks like Elanor

To say that Race is a problematic and complex issue in the US is an understatement. I actually took an entire graduate level History class on the history of race in America. The history of who got to be white and when and why is fascinating.

Respected Historian Eric Foner details in his essay

Although whiteness was not yet defined with any precision, most colonists thought they knew what it meant. Benjamin Franklin suggested in 1751 that since the number of “purely white people” in the world was “very small,” America ought to exclude “all Blacks and Tawneys,” among whom he included not only residents of Africa and Asia but also the “swarthy” peoples of Europe—“the Spaniards, Italians, French, Russians, and Swedes.” Franklin’s inclusion of Swedes among non-whites strikes us today as an original touch.

This notion of North America as the natural home of white people was refected in the Naturalization Act of 1790, one of the first laws passed after the ratifcation of the U. S. Constitution. In “Common Sense,” Tom Paine (misidentifed in Painter’s book as a Virginian, one of many small mistakes), called the new nation an “asylum” for all mankind. But the 1790 law limited citizenship for foreigners to “white” persons. Painter buries mention of the Act in a footnote related to late-nineteenth-century immigration policy. But it was a striking example of how, from the outset, the defnition of American nationhood contained a powerful and exclusionary racial component. After the Civil War, those of African descent were added to the list of persons eligible for naturalization. As the Ozowa and Thind cases of the 1920s showed, the exclusion of Asians lasted much longer.

But let’s talk about today. Many would like you to think we live in some sort of post-race utopia because we elected Barack Obama. However, as Obama-who is indentified as the “first Black President” and not the first biracial president-so eloquently displays, the “one-drop rule” is very much still in effect. This article describes research that supports this–that when a person who is biracial is perceived as having only one race-the race of the minority parent is assigned to them.

“She’s Asian”

I thought about how others might see her-the biracial child of a white woman and an Asian man. I thought about how Obama identifies as a black man instead of a biracial man. I thought about identifying them as white.

I wondered how Elanor, who strongly identifies as Indian, would feel if I identified her as white (were she old enough to have an opinion-at which point she could make that choice herself). I was torn, but even though she’s too young to really understand race, ethnicity, or the implications of race, I want to honor what I hoped Elanor would want me to say.

“She’s Asian,” I said.

Why make it a big deal?

It’s only a stupid piece of paper. It’s a pointless police report. What does it really matter in the long run? Why get worked up over it?

I care because when Ellie was a baby, I was approached on two different occasions and asked “where did you get her?” as if she was a new pair of shoes.

I care because I don’t like the idea of either half of their heritage being denied.

I care because they may be excluded from belonging in either half of their heritage. There was a controversy over Jacinta Lal, the blonde haired woman who won a Ms India pageant in NZ not “looking Indian” and people calling for her to be stripped of her title.

I care because one day they may consider buying the sort of skin whitening products I see on the shelf here all the time to fit the dominant white ideal of beauty.

I care because of every TSA agent who has given Ravi the “random” pat down because he’s brown with long hair and fits their idea of what a terrorist might look like.

I care because it’s not accidental that Ravi gives me the passports to hand over to passport control in the US–I’m the harmless norm (white) from which he deviates.

I care because I also had to explain that India is in Asia and Indian are Asian by the US race classification system because to most American Asian means a very narrow slice of Asia.

I care because of all the moments of casual racism like the one with the police officer, and I wish I could shield the girls from it, and know that I can’t.

Filed under: headdesk moments, Identity, Las Vegas, Nevada, North America, Travel by Continent, Country | 17 Comments »

Expat Wife = Easiest Job in SG?

Posted on December 10, 2012 by Expat Bostonians

The easiest job in Singapore has to be expat wife.

The quote above showed up in the @hellofrmsg twitter feed earlier today (a person the account follows, not a specific comment to the account). As I am an expat wife, I wanted to address this comment, but I knew it would take more than a series of tweets to do a fair job of addressing both the truth and the misconception of this comment.

First I think it important to note that the comment, and this entry address the life of expat wives in Singapore. As my mother in law, and my friend Emily can attest, being an expat wife in other countries (the US and Japan respectively) is an entirely different ballgame than what I’m experiencing. This entry is also based on my experiences, those recounted to me by my friends, the assumptions I’ve dealt with both here and back home, and does not necessarily accurately reflect every expat wife’s experience in Singapore. However, this is the only point of view from which I can address this topic.

I’m going to try to address this without getting defensive, although I think it understandable that my very first reaction was to feel defensive. Let’s hope that I can do it justice. Please let me say as clearly as I can–at no point am I trying to evoke pity for the plight of the expat wife. I hope only to promote understanding of what it is like to be in my shoes.

An acknowledgement of privilege.

I think that before I can address the assumptions inherent in the statement that “The easiest job in Singapore has to be expat wife” that I find problematic/troubling, I have to address the parts of that statement that are absolutely true. I have to acknowledge the privileges inherent in being an expat wife.

Although not universally true, it is true that most working expats are compensated at a higher rate than locals.

There is a lot of anger directed at foreign talent, and at expat wives for this privilege. This anger is understandable, and absolutely in need of addressing by all parties involved. I will say that my husband is well compensated for his work. However, he is not the person who placed the numeric value on his job skills, nor is he the person who elected to hire him. He applied for and accepted a job. We have no knowledge of whether there was a local applicant for the position, or how they were evaluated in relation to Ravi. The companies doing the hiring need to disclose what it is exactly that has them seeking out foreign talent–if local talent can be hired more cheaply, there isn’t a lot of logic in hiring an expat at a higher compensation. If there are skills that they are looking for that local education isn’t providing, the MOE needs to address that. But while we personally are not responsible for this trend, Ravi and I are participating in it, and our/expat ability to pay higher prices is partially responsible for driving up cost of living (among other reasons—expat wealth is not solely responsible for a cost of living increase).

Please do keep in mind that these interpretations of the tropes and perceptions of expat wife-dom are again based on my own incomplete understanding. Please do educate me further about the assumptions behind this statement.

Due to our husband’s financial compensation, many expat wives have the option of staying home.

As an expat wife, I do have the luxury of being a stay at home mom. This is not a privilege many/perhaps the majority of local moms share in. Some local moms, like my friend J, have been lucky enough to have generous maternity packages. But she is returning to work in part for financial reasons (and in part for personal reasons, including feeling fulfilled by her work). This tension between stay at home moms and moms who would like to stay home but do not have the resources to do so exists in many cultures, including the US, and is not unique to Singapore. However, expat wives are a visible symbol of this privilege and the frustration and resentment is understandable. However, again, I don’t set policy for Singapore. Singapore does not have the most family-friendly hiring/working/firing conditions for moms OR dads, and that is something I know that many are working to address.

The other truth that is inherent in my (and other expat wives) can afford to take extended vacations. When my best friend Kate got married last August, I took the girls and went to the US for almost the entire month so that I could be there for the last bit of planning and to host the bachelorette party. Before Ellie was in school/I had Rhiannon, I would often turn my husband’s two week trip home to the US into a month-long trip for Ellie and I. I could, I suppose, take the girls on vacation without Ravi, but apart from going back to the US (where I have my in-laws, parents and friends for support) it’s not much of a vacation.

But our ability to do this is enviable. Before I married Ravi I wasn’t in the financial position to afford regular vacations. My family didn’t have a lot of money, and I was 20 before I ever flew in an airplane. Growing up, I was jealous and envious of my friends who did get to go to Disneyland or to exotic places like California (I grew up on the other side of the US in Massachusetts), much less to places like London. I dreamt of visiting them, but doing so was out of my reach. I didn’t marry Ravi for his income, but I’d be lying if I didn’t openly admit that the income has increased my standard of living exponentially.

Expat wives sit around and shop on Orchard Road while everyone else does all the work.

The most common trope of expat wife-dom that I’ve seen is that we shop on Orchard Road, get pedicures, and gossip with other expat wives while our maids take care of our children and our homes.

Some of this is absolutely true. I’ve met expat wives that fit that trope, and there’s a reason I’m not really friends with most of those women–we have very little in common.

But while I don’t fit that exact profile–I don’t often shop on Orchard Road (apart from Kinokuniya books at Takashimaya and occasionally Jasons’s Marketplace), and I don’t have a maid (anymore), there are assumptions in there that are true. I am lucky enough to be a in a position to have a cleaning service, and I have a twice weekly babysitter. I like a good pedicure (although I think my last one was over six months ago–babies and pedicures aren’t necessarily compatible). I like to hang out with my friends–expat AND local.

More to the point, the assumption speaks to perceived luxury. It is true that I have the resources to shop at more expensive grocery stores (although I definitely don’t have the buying power to even walk into Louis Vuitton or Prada). I could hire another live in maid if I wanted to–and that I have the option of hiring a cleaning service that is more expensive than my live-in helper’s wages (although not wages+food allowance+taxes, I believe, although that’s not the point).

Growing up without money, I was frustrated that others seemed to get things so much more easily than I did. I’m 90k in debt because I had to take out a lot of money to pay for my bachelor’s and master’s degrees. Although as a teacher I was compensated at about the median income of the US (50K USD), I had no ability to afford a home in one of the most expensive housing markets in the US–I was looking at a lifetime of renting. If I had married another teacher, we would have needed loans to pay for our children’s education.

Expat wives expect Singapore to accommodate them, and not the other way around.

I hope that most days this doesn’t apply to me or my friends. But it is true that it applies to some. To this I can only say that there are assholes in every walk of life–be they expat wife, cab driver, teacher, or sales clerk. And there are days it applies to me, when I am the asshole (I share a day like that in this entry).

We get to live abroad, and that is a rare privilege.

Living abroad at all is a rare and wonderful privilege. We (including myself) often lose sight of that in our day to day lives. This is a million miles (figuratively) away from what I expected my life to be at 34. Living in Singapore as an American is one of the easiest places I could live–I speak the local language (sort of-see this entry for an English/English FAIL), foods that are familiar to me are easily available, the water is clean, the schools are good, and a thousand other things I likely take for granted, when compared with being an expat in another location. To be fair, my only other experience in living abroad was that of a student living with a host family in Aix-En-Provence, France when I was 20 for one month-where again, I more or less spoke the language (sort of-in a grammatically deficient form), I had my housing and food largely provided, and I didn’t have to work.

Further, I get to participate in daily Singapore life in a way that Ravi doesn’t. He works a ridiculous amount of hours. He works in Singapore, but only gets to be part of it on weekends. And that’s just not the same experience.

Addressing the problems/troubling aspects of the statement

Now that I have tried to address the truths of the statement, I’d like to address the problems in it.

The conflation of expat with the words wealthy, white, and Western.

I know a number of expats. Not all are western-my friend Y is from Indonesia, and she’s technically an expat wife. Not all are white-my friends W, M, J, A, and P (P blogs as Notabilia) are western expat wives, but are of Asian extraction, not Caucasian. My friend E is both white and western but not wealthy.

This assumption that expat=white is really problematic. My non-white friends have all shared experiences where a different set of expectations have been placed upon them because people assume they’re Singaporean, or think that they should fit a different set of stereotypes. I see this trope constantly–an example from twitter is the question of “what salon is good with expat hair?”, and I recently received a media request to help them find “expectant expat women” who were using “local medicine” for a reality program–a request I correctly interpreted to mean that they wanted some white blonde girls who were using TCM for prenatal care to be a spectacle on a western show.

Obviously terms like “expat” and “American” are universally problematic because few people fit stereotypes (or fit them completely). But I think that when we’re addressing a comment like “the easiest job in Singapore is expat wife” it is important to draw attention to the stereotype being addressed.

I’d also like to add the assumption of straight, but the truth is that if you are an expat wife in Singapore you are either bisexual and married to a person of the opposite sex (such as me) or you are straight. Which is a whole other topic to get into another time (the heteronormative aspects of life in Singapore that I struggle with).

The assumption of a certain lifestyle

I know a number of expats. None of us (American or otherwise) are members of our nationality based “club” (the American Club, the Dutch Club, the British Club and so forth). Roughly only half have maids. Most of us are stay at home moms–but we are involved, hands-on mothers.

Very few people come to Singapore on “expat packages” anymore. Ravi has what is called a “local package.” His company paid to relocate us, and put us up in a temp apartment for one month. That is it. We don’t get a housing allowance, or a school allowance, or any of that. Which is not to say “feel bad for me”-I’m just sharing that the financial/corporate support is very different from 10 or 20 years ago.

What I’m getting at is that few of us have the lifestyle imagined. Which brings me to my next point.

Statements like this only serve to push expats and locals further apart, rather than help us connect.

I am deeply grateful for my expat friends, American and otherwise. Being an expat is a unique experience, and it helps you get through the day to know that some of your friends understand the parts with which you struggle.

I am equally grateful for my local friends. Kirsten, J1, J2, J3, M, D, and my many local friends whom I’ve only met on twitter or via their blogs (such as Singapore Actually) are vitally important to my day to day survival in Singapore, probably more than I can ever express to them. I am a stranger in a strange land, and they are my guides. They’ve advised me where to find stuff, what restaurants they enjoy, recommended pest control services and dry cleaners, and they are my first line of information when I just don’t understand something. I know they will be the people who will help me navigate the confusing process of getting Ellie into a local P1 class when the time comes. And just as there is no universal expat experience, they have a wealth of different experiences that help me form a better, multidimensional view of the topic we’re discussing.

However, finding local friends isn’t easy. You can’t just walk up to someone at a store or on the street and ask them, “will you be my Singaporean friend?” In my case, social media (my blog and my twitter particuarly) and people who were willing to reach out to me were my entry to friendships with locals. If I weren’t a social media/internet sort of person, it would be hard to find local friends.

There is an assumption in both the local and the expat communities that they are “other” from ourselves. Statements like that only build resentment and further firm that assumption. As an expat wife, I want to be defensive. As a local, I might feel a twinge of resentment.

But the truth is that my local friends and I have a lot in common.

Those of us who are moms want the best future for our children. We love them, and want them to turn into wonderful people. We might feed them differently, or discipline them differently, but we all share the same end goal. We like food. We like many of the same movies. We support each other when we’re having a bad day, and provide a shoulder to cry on. We step in and pick each other’s kids up from school if someone is going to be late.

My friend Kirsten and I share a love of Broadway musicals. We have a similar snarky sense of humor and I’ll miss her snark during the New Year’s Eve show, as she’s currently abroad in a graduate program.

I’ve been lucky enough to attend a local friend’s wedding reception, and another friend invited us to her home for Diwali.

I would love it if every expat had a great group of local friends. Maybe we’d have less animosity if they did.

There are often things that aren’t easy about being an expat wife

Let me again reiterate that I am not seeking, nor do I deserve, pity. I have a great life. But there are things that are less easy here than they would be in my home country, and my purpose in sharing those here is to shed some light on the parts of being an expat that aren’t part of the public discourse in the same way that the parts of our life that are priviledged are.

It isn’t easy to be 10,000 miles away from my closest friends and family. Yes, I skype, tweet, blog, and facebook to stay in touch. It doesn’t make losing a relative but not being a position to fly home for the funeral easy. It doesn’t make missing out on friend’s weddings easy. It doesn’t make them missing out on being a daily part of the girls lives easy. it doesn’t make days where someone posts “who wants to go to X” on Facebook and I want nothing more than to go to X with them, but can’t because I’m on the other side of the world easy.
It isn’t easy to learn how to navigate the ins and outs of daily life in Singapore, especially the parts that you think SHOULD be easy. I had to learn how to use a washing machine and dryer again. I didn’t know what to do when we lost power, and I was frustrated because it seemed like such a basic thing to know. For that matter, I didn’t know how to call an ambulance…something that became vitally important when I was laying on my floor with a broken leg. These moments of confusion, especially the longer I’ve been here are extremely frustrating because I feel like I *should* know how to do them. But they’re not situations that your “moving to Singapore” guides or seminars cover.
It’s not always easy to explain your life to your friends back home. Some parts are just so mundane–I take the kids to school, I do grocery shopping, I drive. Others are weirdly different–the country is smaller than my home state (which is a small state to begin with), and I’m still not used to the nonstop heat. But then there’s the middle ground–stuff that’s too mundane to be interesting, but not exotic enough to be interesting either–such as what it’s like to hire a handyman and navigate a home repair (we don’t have the 150 dollar deductible/then hire a handyman yourself dynamic back home).
It’s definitely not easy to have a maid. I’ve written pretty extensively about this (20 posts). But let me boil it down to some essentials. For those of us who come from cultures where it isn’t the norm to have live-in help are ill-prepared to be effective managers of live-in help, and the MOM “training” just isn’t adequate. There are major cultural differences. Having a stranger live in your home, especially if this is an abnormality for your home culture is problematic. Having a maid didn’t just fail to work out for us because she stole things from us (although obviously, that was an issue), but because I sucked at being a maid’s employer.
It’s not easy to raise third culture kids. If I were raising them in the US, I’d have a lot of understanding of their day to day experiences, inasmuch as any parent has. Raising the girls in Singapore means that they are having a radically different childhood from our own. Which is partially the point. But it isn’t always easy to navigate how to parent them in a way that supports their growth and respects who they are/how they identify when you don’t necessarily understand their experiences. For me this is compounded by the fact that my children are biracial, and no matter how much I learn about Indian culture-I’m not Indian, I’m not a person of color and I will never completely understand their experiences. Something I plan to write about is that when I was filing my police report on losing my purse in Vegas (Oh yeah, I need to share about that too), the officer asked me what race my children were and when they didn’t have biracial or “other” she asked me “what do they look like-white or asian?” and used that, to my extreme discomfort. It’s not easy to support a child who is learning Mandarin (which I’m so excited by) when I can’t read the weekly summary of what they’re doing in Mandarin class (because it’s written in Mandarin), I can’t speak the language to help her gain vocabulary, and as she ages I can’t support her homework.

Some final thoughts

I didn’t write this post to attack whoever first said that “the easiest job in Singapore is that of Expat Wife.” I always meant to address being an expat during my week as curator on @hellofrmsg and this was an entry point to do so.

Filed under: Culture Shock, customs, Expat to Expat Advice, Helpers, Housing, Identity, medical, money, Singapore, Third Culture Kids, With Kids | 23 Comments »

Diwali (part 2)

Posted on November 14, 2012 by Expat Bostonians

My Diwali started with a nice, long sleep. Ravi got up with the girls, and then forgot to wake me up. I was finally woken when Ravi decided he wanted a nap and was feeling a bit run down.

So I got up and hung out in the living room with the girls.

Diwali decorations in our living room

We had some food (but not Jalebi, since Ravi was fast asleep by this point), and then got ready to go to them home of Ellie’s teacher.

A Diwali tradition is to wear new clothes. Ellie wore the salwar we’d bought at the Diwali bazaar the night before. Rhi wore one of the outfits I’d had made for the wedding that she’d not yet worn. I wore something better than new clothes–clothes I’d last worn pre-pregnancy. Hurray!

Ellie in her new salwar

Very shortly after this photo was taken, I learned the folly of a 10 dollar salwar. The seam on the inner thigh split (not because it was tight, but because the word was roughly worth 10 sgd. I’m guessing the tailor attached to our dry cleaner is probably going to charge me at least another 10 to resew the hems.

On the drive over to our friend’s home, I decided to play Ellie some Indian music. I put some of my favorite music from a few movies (Kahbi Alvida Naa Kehna and Salaam-E-Ishq) onto my iPod and played it for her on the drive over. She alternated between asking me to play her the Disney Princess Christmas CD I’d just bought (No, I have no idea why I brought that on myself) and trying to sing along.

We were warmly welcomed into my friend’s home. Ellie insisted on carrying the snacks we’d brought as a gift, and giving it to them herself. She did a pretty good job at wishing people “Saal Mubarak.” Then she went and was very social, making new friends and following her teacher around like a puppy. I chatted, and the baby was passed around, occasionally making her way back to me, but very much enjoying making new friends.

I loved how their diyas went up the stairs

We stayed for a while, and enjoyed sharing the holiday with friends. I was struck again, much as I was at the wedding of another friend from school, how far we’ve come in the time we’ve been here. We’ve been very lucky to have found a wonderful group of friends, and how fortunate we have been to be adopted (in a sense) by the staff and some of the other families in the class.

Rhi, Ellie, and her beloved teacher

We had to head home because I had a ticket to see Elaine Paige at the Esplanade Theater that night. When I bought the ticket, I hadn’t realized that the date of the concert was Diwali. I did feel a bit of a pang about abandoning my children to watch American Football with their dad instead of doing the Diwali activities I’d planned. However, when compared with the chance to see Elaine Paige sing in person (context–I’m a HUGE broadway fan and she’s a HUGE Broadway/West End legend who doesn’t tour often), I have to admit I’d still make the same choice.

But first a photo with mama before leaving. You can see my mendhi on the hand holding Ellie.

Our friend’s mom gave the girls Diwali packets (much like a red packet at CNY-an envelope with a small amount of money in it), and we’ll be writing her a thank you note over the weekend.

When we got home, before I headed out to the concert, I asked Ellie to help me make a video to send to her Dadi and Dada. Below you get to see her say “Saal Mubarak!”

We didn’t get to all the Diwali stuff I wanted to, so I have officially extended our celebration through the weekend so that we can get to the jalebi and sparklers and so forth. Not quite traditional, but it works for us.

Filed under: Holidays, Identity, Singapore | 4 Comments »

Reverse Culture Shock

Posted on August 16, 2012 by Expat Bostonians

After driving on the left side of the road for the past seven or so months, I have had to focus and think hard about being on the right side of the road again. I found myself wailing to anyone who would listen that “BOTH SIDES OF THE ROAD ARE WRONG! THERE IS NO CORRECT SIDE ANYMORE!!!”

When filling my tank at the gas station, the attendant told me the total was $53 USD (66.25 SGD) and I almost replied “No, I wanted a full tank of gas,” thinking that there must have been a mistake. Then I remembered that gas is significantly cheaper here. A typical full tank in Singapore is 100 SGD (80 USD), and that is for a tank that is only 2/3rds the size of my US tank. To recap, I get 33% more gas for 67% of the cost of a tank of gas in Singapore.

Hello Reverse Culture shock

I’ve always been one to feel a deep sense of relief upon landing on American soil. Coming home has meant that things finally make sense to me again without having to process or think–that I reflexively “get it.”

I’d heard of reverse culture shock but assumed that since I’m American as Apple Pie it would never happen to me. That when we eventually moved home, I’d assimilate right back in without so much as a hiccup.

However, after two and a half years, it seems that my automatic sense of “just getting it” isn’t so automatic anymore. That I’m out of step here. Confused. I got lost when driving to a mall I’ve been to hundreds of times over the course of my life. Perplexed by stores that are no longer there. Looking for friends who have moved on from Massachusetts and the US. Unsteady.

Playing with sidewalk chalk in my in-laws driveway with her Dada

I’m not sure that we could ever use sidewalk chalk at our condo in Singapore. But at my in-laws, Ellie is free to draw with it in the driveway and decorate the path to their front door, and no one cares if it doesn’t rain for a few days, knowing it will be washed away sooner or later.

Davis Square, Somerville Massachusetts

I am very used to the way retail transactions are done in Singapore, and it has shown in my two weeks here.

When trying to buy some stuff at a drug store, I handed the credit card to the cashier with both hands. WRONG-I should’ve used the machine.

I tried to insert the card into the machine to let it read the chip. WRONG-I should’ve swiped it.

I waited to sign the slip. WRONG-I should’ve signed the machine’s screen.

I’ve also used cash when I didn’t need to because I’m so used to credit card minimums. In the US, you can charge almost any amount. Often, when the transaction is less than 25 or 50 USD, you don’t even need to sign for it at all.

gorgeous sky

I know there are parts of Singapore where the sky is so big and so gorgeous it just blows your mind. But due to where we live, where Ravi works, and where Ellie goes to school, the majority of my time is spent in the high rise mecca of the Central Business District. Seeing so much open sky and so many 1-2 story buildings shocks me at times.

Trinity Church with the Hancock Tower in the background (Copley Square, Boston)

Amusing anecdotes aside, the major change is ME.

I love being home. I love seeing my friends. I love having grandparents who are happy to babysit (for free, even!). I love the long hot showers. I love being able to shop for clothes that actually fit my body. Oh, American Food–it’s so good that I’m only eating you for a few weeks–I can’t bear to think of how many calories I’m eating.

I’ve done some shopping–mostly for clothes for my non-pregnant, soon to be non-breastfeeding (or significantly reduced breastfeeding) body. I’ve picked up Halloween costumes for the girls. Some books. A few dvd’s. And we’ll fill a suitcase with food to be sure.

BUT.

I’m not running to Target, desperate for anything familiar, terrified to find alternatives. I think of the food we took to Singapore, so certain we’d crave it, only to have it still sitting in our cupboards. The tons of dvd’s I’ve bought only to not have viewed them as of yet. Ellie wears uniforms five days a week–there’s no need to spoil her with a ton of new clothes, and Rhi is inheriting a ridiculous wardrobe from Ellie. I’m more comfortable in the knowledge that if we truly need something, my in-laws can send it–or we can just live without it until our trip home in November for a cousin’s wedding. In the 8 months since our last visit, the only thing I ran out of that was an issue was my preferred salon-sold shampoo and conditioner, and I bought more today. I think it is a real possibility that we leave a suitcase or two here in the US instead of buying the two more we could to max our luggage allowance. Sure toys are cheaper here (and so are books) and I’ve bought a couple, but…meh.

There is actually very little here that I couldn’t live without in Singapore (with the exception of my clothes and shampoo…and maybe a bag of my favorite bbq chips). Realizing this is quite a shock to my system.

Singapore is home. The way life works there, incomprehensible to me as it might be at times, is my “norm” now.

I find myself scouring my twitter feeds in the morning to catch up on my SG tweep’s doings. I’ve joined in discussions dissecting caning (we’re against it), why women in SG aren’t procreating at the government’s preferred speed and volume, and rolled my eyes when people here think that the “National Night” video by Mentos is something to take seriously (also, I get most of the references!). I’ve been in Singapore long enough to understand some of the political and social issues of the day well enough to have an educated opinion.

Ellie keeps asking when we’re going back to Singapore, and I think I finally understand why. While I’ve enjoyed the trip “home,” I’m happy to heading back to the little red dot, which has also become “home.”

Filed under: Boston, cars/driving, Culture Shock, customs, Expat to Expat Advice, headdesk moments, Identity, money, North America, Pictures, Random Stuff, Singapore, Third Culture Kids, Travel by Continent, Country, US | 21 Comments »

Singapore’s Rotation Curation project

Posted on July 28, 2012 by Expat Bostonians

I’ve been meaning to write a post encouraging everyone to follow @hellofrmSG, the official Singapore Rotation Curation Project Twitter Account.

The concept originated December 10, 2011, when Svenska Institutet and VisitSweden launched Curators of Sweden.^[1] The project hands the official Twitter account @Sweden to a new Swedish person every week to manage, with the expressed goal to manifest Swedish diversity and progressiveness through their own personality.

The original idea has been reported on in mass media around the world^[2]^[3]^[4]^[5]^[6] and inspired the launch of many similar projects. The Twitter account @PeopleofLeeds started January 15, 2012, where citizens of Leeds represent their hometown. January 18, 2012, @WeAreAustralia and @TweetWeekUSA, followed by @CuratorsMexico and @BasquesAbroad January 21. All of these are unofficial accounts without governmental influence or sanctions, as well as the actual foundation for the concept of Rotation Curation, which is to let official and unofficial projects, countries, cities, companies, cultural, and, or other types of groups to rotate their spokespersons, curators, every week. source

@hellofrmSG started the first week of July, and has had several curators. In the first week we learned about the history of various streets and locations around Singapore. In the second week, we learned about various types of wildlife around Singapore. The third week was led by a philosophy student. During the fourth week, we were hearing from Zack (@POZboySG), a young HIV+ Singaporean. He was tweeting about the realities of life with HIV when the account was suspended.

Currently @hellofrmSG is still suspended. The organizers have reason to believe that it was suspended not by the government, but by a reader who objected to Zack’s content. It was also suspended only days after @WeAreAustralia was also suspended.

The Rotation Curation Project’s official blog has put out the following statement

On June 3, 2012, however, with no warning and no explanation, Twitter suspended the @IAm_Pakistan account. On June 11, after vociferous protest from #RotationCuration followers, the @IAm_Pakistan account was restored.

Now, however, as of July 24, both @WeAreAustralia and @hellofrmSG (Singapore) have similarly been suspended, with no explanation whatsoever from Twitter.

According to the Electronic Frontier Foundation, January 27, 2012, in What Does Twitter’s Country-by-Country Takedown System Mean for Freedom of Expression?, Twitter will only suppress content for IP addresses within a specific country when asked to do so by the specific country and only for legal reasons local to that country. Beyond this, “Twitter is taking two additional steps to ensure that users know that the censorship has happened. First, they are giving users notice when they seek that content. Second, they are sending the notices they receive to the Chilling Effects Project, which publishes the orders, creating an archive.”

But in the case of @WeAreAustralia and @hellofrmSG (as with @IAm_Pakistan) there has been no notice and there has been nothing posted to the Chilling Effects Project database.

Within the same entry, they have organized a petition that you can and should sign, which will be presented to twitter in person on August 1rst, asking for the reinstatement of @WeAreAustralia and @hellofrmSG.

I am friends with one of the organizers of @hellofrmSG and will be one of the weekly curators later this year. I think the rotation curation project is a fascinating way to learn more about people who live in the same country as I, and other countries as well. I follow a number of them. I’m also following the NYC rotation curation project, because as I was recently saying to a friend, we all have our own little slice of NYC, and I’m always interested in learning about someone else’s. I really want to see @hellofrmSG reinstated. Let’s get as many signatures as possible.

Filed under: Guest POV, Identity, Singapore, Uniquely Singapore | Leave a Comment »

Pink Dot 2012

Posted on July 2, 2012 by Expat Bostonians

Sadly we missed out on Pink Dot 2012, due to family illness.

But you can read about it at the Pink Dot Site It was bigger and better than ever–15000 people came!

My friend Notabilia also attended, and you can read about it at her blog here.

photo stream http://www.flickr.com/photos/pinkdot/

Sorry we missed it. With luck everyone will be healthy next year!

I’d love to hear if anyone else wants to share a blog post about pink dot 2012 or the American 4th of July Celebration at SAS which also happened on June 30

Filed under: Identity, politics, Singapore, Theater/Shows/Events, Uniquely Singapore, With Kids | 2 Comments »

Gujarati Princess

Posted on May 23, 2012 by Expat Bostonians

My in-laws came back from India with a special treat for Ellie. I think she looks like a proper gujarati princess…if only I had my wedding bindi kicking around (it’s in the US), then the look would be complete. I’ll have to get a sticker one or two. We didn’t get the wrap done quite right, so I didn’t include those photos. Ellie will be sporting this at a cousin’s wedding this coming November.