When I was in my second year of university, a stranger approached a friend and me on the streets of Melbourne, asking to photograph us for his website about interracial couples. A little taken aback, we told him we weren't together but had friends that might fit the bill. He went on to explain that many of his friends were Asian men who thought Anglo-Australian women just weren't interested in dating them. His website was his way of showing this wasn't true. After a fittingly awkward goodbye, I never saw that man or, concerningly, his website again, but the unusual encounter stayed with me. It was the first time someone had given voice to an insecurity I held but had never felt comfortable communicating.
It had been a long few months, full of challenges that life had decided to throw my way. I had holed myself up in the bedroom while struggling with my demons, but for the first time in a while, I felt like I could breathe again. Seizing the moment, my husband and I decided to get out of the house, a hopeful step in the right direction. As we entered the eatery and approached the counter, I realized how unfamiliar the once comfortable restaurant had become.
W omen, runs an Indian joke, were the reason the British lost India. Indians managed a working relationship with the men but when the prissy women landed with their flouncy dresses and aversion to the heat, it was time for independence. Asian women in Britain, however, are coping with the heat; that of the rat race and the heart. In love, while the men retreat back "home" to find accommodating brides, a visibly growing number of these women are winning the hearts of white colleagues and friends.