A Bolivian, an American and an Asian walk into a sushi bar.
I know what you’re thinking, but that’s not the beginning of a joke. My husband and I tend to turn heads, just because he’s Hispanic and I’m Asian. Once people get to know us, they don’t think twice, but we’re used to the double takes, the surprised looks.
I’m a Japanese American through adoption. All of my family is white, on both sides. My cousins and I have had a lot of fun times, asking people why they think we don’t look alike. Apparently having the tall, Nordic look doesn’t quite equal the Asian one. We’re very close to my cousins, especially the ones that live in town. A few months ago, my husband and I took one of my cousins to eat in a Sushi bar, because we’ve fallen in love with the place. The food is seriously to die for.
Our poor waiter didn’t even know what to do. One male, two females, and he didn’t know how we belonged together. We didn’t match, and we obviously didn’t have anything that linked us together, not that he could see.
Except we do. Family isn’t always going to look the same. There’s so many more instances of couples adopting babies of different races and interracial marriages. I think it’s wonderful. I’m the product of an interracial marriage, my mother is Japanese, my dad is white. My husband and I have an interracial marriage, and since we’ve been dealing with infertility, we’ve been hoping to adopt, and we don’t have a preference as to race.
I love having a diverse family, and I love being able to go out with them and confuse everyone that sees us.
Diversity isn’t about excluding any one race or gender. It’s about including and adding to the pot. It’s a beautiful thing.