Love thy neighbour, Hong Kong
On Valentine's Day, my wife and I like to recall our favourite line from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet: 'A plague on both your houses!'
This very curse could have been spoken by any number of our friends and relatives 15 years ago in response to our own proposed (and also forbidden) union. The problem for us, however, was not that we came from rival families living in the same town; rather, we came from enemy races located on different continents. I was a white American; she was a black Kenyan. And the dominant thinking on race relations with which both of us had grown up evokes another famous line - this one from Kipling: 'Never the twain shall meet.'
But we did meet, eventually married and - so far, at least - have managed to avoid a tragic end. If anything, it was the beginning that was tragic. Everything that has followed - children, debt, arguments and all the other challenges of conjugal life - has seemed relatively easy.
For example, not since that fateful year in which I proposed have I been summoned to a three-hour interrogation by the collective patriarchy of my wife's family. The aim was to determine whether I was a man of character worthy enough to deserve her. Devastatingly, when the inquisition mercifully ended, the answer was no.
And not since that same year has my wife been jolted by a letter from my maternal grandmother in which the formidable matriarch of my family explained that, while some black people may be nice enough, no sensible white person should use that as an excuse to marry one. That letter could not destroy my love for my grandmother, but I worried that it would destroy my fiancee's will to soldier on in the face of such hardheaded opposition. Thankfully, it did not. Time heals. Now my wife and grandmother chat amiably, and my father-in-law treats me like a son. A difficult beginning, my wife and I agree, made everybody stronger.
Of course, same-race couples can also face obstacles, some no doubt bigger than those we encountered. But I will wager that there are not many same-race suitors who have been asked this penetrating question by their would-be father-in-law: 'How can I be assured that you will not take my daughter to your country and turn her into a second-class citizen?'
At the time, these words burned in my ears, but since then I have learned to appreciate my father-in-law's wisdom. Indeed, I may ask the same question of any suitor seeking my own daughter's hand. As the years have ticked by, I have seen not only the insidious link between race and class but also how little has really been done to break that nexus.
In the US, I suppose it is encouraging to see the faces of people like Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice in the top echelons of power. But one has to wonder how the great success of such international stars helps the disproportionate number of black Americans mired in a culture of poverty that has endured for generations.
In my wife's Africa, the Dark Continent has become the Forgotten Continent.
And right here in Hong Kong, how do we explain the ignoble foot-dragging on proposed anti-discrimination legislation that would protect ethnic minorities? We all recognise the historical prejudice against ethnic minorities here - in schools, in employment and in every other facet of daily life. This bill should have been enacted years ago. It is only the callous indifference of the majority that has held it up and now threatens its effectiveness with debilitating loopholes.
Hong Kong's history, like my own, is one of mixed blood and heritage. It, too, is a fractious tale of east meets west. On its better days, it is also a love story. This, I hope, is one of those days. Happy Valentine's Day, Hong Kong.
Kent Ewing is a teacher at Hong Kong International School. This is a personal comment
