There was the good-looking freelance writer who lived in Georgetown who swept me off my feet, and with whom I enjoyed a whirlwind, and mainly physical, romance. And the nice but eccentric librarian whom I knew briefly, who on our first date invited me to watch an obscure film, which he later said was “a test” to see if I would pass. There was the Stanford graduate student who turned out to be untrustworthy, crass, and lacked emotional integrity.
He comes across as alternately guilt-ridden over his treatment of his wives and at times belligerent about demands made on him by women and friends. In recounting the rigors and delights of a magazine-commissioned travel piece (“Thirty islands in sixty days”), he sometimes skims over key details and offers up a glossy summary of his experiences. It seems the article he finally wrote helped to exorcize personal demons, as much as convey the overall experience to readers.
In the past year, 22,462 international marriages have taken place in South Korea, according to Statistics Korea. Such a figure is a 7.9 percent decrease in comparison to the previous year. In fact, the number of international marriages have been steadily decreasing every year since 2008 when 36,629 weddings were between a South Korean and a foreigner.
Earlier this month, TLC brought back "Sister Wives," a reality show featuring the Utah-based polygamist Brown family of four wives and 17 children, for another season. Since last season, the Browns struck down a major piece of state legislation that may pave the way for the legalization of polygamy under the guise of “religious freedom.” In a nod to anti-gay marriage advocates who warned the legalization of same-sex marriage would lead to other kinds of sexual freedoms, such as polygamy, the ruling is deemed a watershed moment for the rights of polygamist families— of which there is estimated to be around 45,000.
It is no secret that there is a lot of pressure on Arab American women to get married at a young age. Many find it difficult to concentrate on pursuing higher education because of cultural limitations. The expectations many families have for their daughters to get married in their 20s or earlier is not limited to the Arab community. It exists in other minority groups. Not all Arab American families expect their daughters to get married young or put pressure on them to do so, but it is a common problem.
Recalling the day her Islamic divorce was finalized, Olivia said, "I was more than ecstatic, because it was almost like having a noose around your neck, and just relieved that somebody doesn’t have that power over you, and you’re out of such a hostile situation." Olivia, who chose not to use her real name, separated from her husband after six years of marriage and divorced him in civil court, but when he refused to grant her a religious divorce, she traveled across the country for four years meeting with imams in different cities asking for a divorce.
The sheikh, who lived in Ain Tarma had urged everyone to Jihad, her husband told her, but Jihad apparently took on many faces. One could take arms and fight or one could help finance the fight and if neither were possible, then one could still do Jihad –”Jihad Al Nikah,” which translates roughly into English as sexual Jihad. One could and indeed should (for it was a God-ordained duty) marry the young widows of all the men who had lost their lives in the fight.
The study also highlighted the issue of immigrant parents who resisted interracial or religious relationships. “It’s not ok for me to marry outside of my religion—I have to marry a Muslim. My parents would prefer someone Arabic because the culture is the same,” a Yemeni female participant said. In conversations and a survey with young San Gabriel Valley residents with immigrant parents, I also heard many youth say that they were up against stiff parental restrictions on dating, uncomfortable conversations, and resistance to marrying outside of their racial or ethnic group.
Flirting—the penultimate romance language—is an endangered concept in 21st-century America. Gone are the face-to-face conversations, where exposure to body language and tone of voice permit our pheromones to chemically determine compatibility. “People just aren’t willing to engage in public. It’s so difficult to get someone to make eye contact…” claims Jane, a 20-something New Yorker.
Take neophytes Jeff and Jennifer Karl from Valley, Nebraska, opening right before March 2020, the height of the dreaded pandemic. On the plus side, some customers found isolating in their cars to be a possible solution to enduring the virus. From the start, Jeff’s friends thought his new plan was a crazy idea. Eleven acres that needed mowing each week, $30,000 for a laser projector, and Jennifer’s conviction that “if you have a dream, you can build it” made Quasar a reality.
This example of getting along came in marked contrast to how some legislators in Congress (mis)behaved during President Biden’s February 7 State of the Union address. As Biden talked about how a minority of GOP members aimed to cut spending for the Social Security and Medicare programs, Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene and a few of her fellow Republicans interrupted the speech by booing, shouting out rude objections, and generally making fools of themselves.