Meeting the Parents as an Autistic Asian: It Is "Not" What It Is

Warning: This article contains no amazing tips or tricks for meeting the parents; instead, it is an honest account of lived experiences, mishaps, and lessons that might resonate with those in similar situations.

Free Yourself from Unrealistic Expectations for Meeting the Parents

The first thing I’d like to address is that there’s no perfect encounter when it comes to meeting the parents or, for that matter, any significant individual in our lives. So, let’s not set ourselves up with unnecessary expectations for making the perfect first impression. Just like any meaningful connection, it requires time, effort, and often a bit of patience to build trust. Therefore, if anyone out there is expecting you to impress them in just a few hours of interaction, and that it'll be sufficient to decide whether they're willing or not willing to accept you as a part of their family, well, then that is what we call unrealistic expectations. I can assure you that no amount of charm or impressive anecdotes will change the minds of people who have a detachment from reality or rigid preconceived notions that a brief encounter can encapsulate the entirety of who you are, or determine your suitability for their grown child.

Instead of focusing on trying to win over everyone you meet, we need to accept that it's simply unrealistic to expect everyone to like us. This acceptance can be liberating and allows us to approach the situation with a more genuine mindset. The best way to approach meeting the parents is by being true to yourself, presenting yourself in a way that feels most natural and authentic to you. This authenticity shouldn't come at a high cost. When I say "cost," I'm not referring to material gifts such as flowers, gourmet hampers, or a thoughtfully chosen bottle of wine for your partner's parents. Rather, I mean the emotional and psychological cost of masking your true self in an effort to impress the parents, which can lead to significant dysregulation or even autistic burnout. This type of masking can be detrimental to your overall wellbeing.

Of course, it’s only natural to want to make a good impression, especially considering that these people are often the closest family to your significant other, who is someone you care about deeply. The parents are often pivotal in shaping the dynamics of your relationship, and their opinions can carry considerable weight, which can have a substantial influence on your life together. However, in my opinion, nothing is worth sacrificing our wellbeing over. The pressure to conform to someone else's expectations can be overwhelming, and it's important to acknowledge that your value doesn’t hinge on their approval. If they don't like what they know about you in just a few hours, then perhaps that is for the best. This realisation can actually relieve some of the pressure associated with future encounters. If the first meeting didn’t go as hoped, there is no longer the burden of worrying about messing up subsequent meetings, as the initial interaction clearly failed to do justice to who you are as a person.

Embracing your authentic self can create deeper connections over time. Instead of focusing solely on impressing others with rehearsed gestures or curated behaviours, it’s best to remember that relationships, whether they're romantic or familial, evolve and develop gradually. Allowing your genuine personality to come out is the only way to show respect to yourself, your partner, and their parents, while approaching the "big" meet with a mindset grounded in self-acceptance and authenticity. Patience with yourself is key, as well as the understanding that genuine relationships are built on acceptance and understanding rather than superficial impressions. Therefore, let go of those unrealistic expectations. You don’t need to be a perfect human being (or even a semi-perfect one). Just be the utterly unique you, and allow the relationship to unfold naturally, without the heavy weight of unrealistic expectations hanging over you.

The Not-So-Subtle Art of Otherness

As an Asian person living in the UK, I've become quite accustomed to being seen as different. My awareness didn't unfold gradually over the years after I had time to acclimatise to the country; instead, it hit me like a double-decker bus right when I landed at the airport as a young girl. It started with subtle signs: words spoken, the speed at which they were spoken, exchanged glances, the varied ways I was treated, and those uncomfortably long stares that made me feel like a rare exhibit in a museum. You know the type—where you can almost hear the mental commentary: "Look, a real-life Asian! Do you think she knows how to use chopsticks?" These experiences accumulated, slowly but surely, leading me to understand that I was viewed through a lens that highlighted my differences, often at the expense of my ethnicity. This marked my first encounter with such a stark sense of otherness, and it was a pivotal moment that shaped my understanding of identity.

This was far from the first time I encountered a sense of difference in my life. Growing up, I was acutely aware of my uniqueness, even in the absence of any formal medical recognition of my neurodivergence at the time. My quirks or idiosyncrasies, if you will, which set me apart, are part of my identity, and rather than seeing them as a burden, I embraced them fully. As I cruised through childhood and adolescence, I learned to discern what truly mattered and what didn't. I quickly realised that I shouldn't squander my precious time worrying about others' discomfort with my glaring differences. Instead, I decided to focus my energy on the people I deeply cared about—those who accepted me as I am. I found joy in my inward acceptance, and I often displayed an outward, unapologetic disregard for how others perceived my special brand of uniqueness. This self-acceptance has shaped my interactions and relationships, allowing me to handle the complexities of social dynamics with confidence.

No Foolproof Way in Meeting the Parents

While I can't claim to have developed any profound strategies or foolproof methods for meeting the parents of my partners, I can certainly share my experiences, which are basically a collection of mishaps and lessons learned from long-term relationships and marriage. As an autistic Asian woman, these encounters add another layer of complexity, especially in the context of interneuro parent meetings. I've realised that these situations often involve misunderstandings and preconceived notions, particularly when cultural differences come into play.

I vividly recall numerous occasions when I met my then-boyfriend's family as a teenage girl. Each encounter was tinged with an underlying tension, often punctuated by comments that focused on my race and might have been pulled straight from a time capsule of outdated stereotypes, reducing my identity to just my skin colour rather than recognising the depth of my character and personality. It was as if I were a walking paint swatch rather than a fully-fledged human being with thoughts, feelings, and a tendency to be blunt, yet I had to play along with nods and smiles. These experiences served as a stark reminder of the barriers in communication and understanding between different cultures.

Such interactions frequently seemed to distract from the chance to truly appreciate the essence of who I am, especially when cultural backgrounds and neurodiversity intersect. I began to see these moments as a waste of my time, as they often overshadowed the opportunity for genuine connection and understanding. It became evident to me that while others may fixate on my appearance, I'm so much more than that. We must acknowledge our diverse and distinct experiences, emotions, and intellect, even if others lack the basic ability to value our differences. It’s those little differences that make us a lot more interesting—and a lot more fun!

Can We Turn Off the Stereotypes?

Reflecting on these meet-the-parents experiences, I've learned the importance of being aware of my own boundaries regarding what I'm willing to accept and how much I exercise my resilience to avoid being engulfed by unproductive connections. I can only continue to advocate for myself when my identity is reduced to mere stereotypes. I mean, come on! As an autistic Asian woman, my narrative is like a Netflix series that deserves a proper binge-watch, not a quick scroll through the highlights. My voice needs to be heard, and it definitely needs to be louder than the "Asian stereotype of the week" that some people seem to be stuck on. I may be private, but that doesn’t mean I won’t challenge narrow perceptions like a game of Whack-a-Mole—pop up, challenge, and then disappear back into my cozy shell. It’s all about balance!

While I can't change how others perceive me (if I could, I’d be charging a fee for my magical perception-altering services), I can control how I present myself and respond to their views. Each experience contributes to my self-discovery, shaping my understanding of my bicultural and autistic identity. These experiences may not always be as positive as I hoped, but maintaining connections that honour my experience as an autistic Asian woman is far more important than trying to fit in with people who want me to wear a mask. Honestly, who has the energy to keep up with that version of myself? It's truly not worth it. I’d rather be my authentic self in a world that sometimes struggles to see beyond the surface. Seriously, life’s too short to mask.

Exploring the Intersection of Autistic and Asian Identity in Meeting the Parents

Being autistic and Asian offers a unique perspective on the world, especially when it comes to communication and social interactions. Bluntness, in this context, feels like an inherent trait, as if it's embedded into the very coding of my DNA. For many of us, it's instinctive to point out the obvious, a behaviour that can be perceived as refreshing honesty in some situations but may clash with the unspoken, often unrealistic societal norms that dictate a more passive approach to interactions. These norms can be an overwhelming weight, pressuring us to suppress our natural tendencies in favour of what is deemed socially acceptable. This bluntness often results in a compelling need to express thoughts and observations that others might considered as offensive. It can be frustrating, as it feels almost painful to refrain from stating the obvious, especially in environments like parent meetings that prioritise niceties for the sake of niceties. These unwritten rules can be stifling, and at times, I'm entirely oblivious to them, leading to misunderstandings and unintended offences.

On one occasion, a boyfriend's mother asked if I found José Mourinho attractive, and I replied that I didn't know who he was. She then showed me a photo, and my then-boyfriend explained that he's a football manager his mother is obsessed with. After looking at the photo, I said "No, not at all, he's really old." My boyfriend and his family burst into laughter, but his mother stayed silent and didn't speak to me for the rest of the evening. From my perspective, as a teenager, it seemed more unusual to find someone much older than me attractive. Months later, during a disagreement with that boyfriend, I learned that everybody thought I was very rude and his mother was offended because I pointed out this person being old, which confused me as people were laughing at the time and I didn't know why it was used against me unexpectedly. Additionally, it had nothing to do with our relationship, so I didn't understand why this was brought up during a couple's disagreement.

This trait of bluntness, though sometimes considered a social misstep, has frequently served me exceptionally well in my career and business pursuits. In professional environments, straightforward and direct communication facilitates efficient decision-making, effective problem-solving, and a level of honesty that many find refreshing, enabling the swift exchange of ideas. Colleagues and clients often appreciate my directness, as it eliminates ambiguity and creates a transparent work environment where openness is valued. However, this same quality can become a double-edged sword when I transition from the professional world to personal situations, especially during significant life events like meeting a partner's parents.

Is It Because I'm Asian or Autistic?

There was one particular first meeting with my then-boyfriend's family that stands out vividly in my memory. As I arrived at their home, I was met with open arms, quite literally, as each family member embraced me in a series of hugs. To most, this might seem like a lovely expression of affection, a way to quickly bridge the gap between strangers and family. However, for me, it was somewhat surprising. In my Asian culture, physical displays of affection, like hugging, aren't as common or freely exchanged as they might be in Western cultures. Being particularly sensitive to sensory experiences, I'm quite selective about the type of physical touch I'm comfortable with, especially from people I don't know well. The hugs, while well-intentioned, felt intrusive, and I'd have prefer not to have those social expectations placed on me at that moment.

After the round of hugs, a family member made a comment that struck me as both surprising and somewhat hurtful. They said, "Is this a weird Asian thing where you guys don’t know how to hug?" This remark was particularly unwelcome after I had already endured the uncomfortable sensations of the hugs out of politeness and to show my willingness to connect with the family. It felt like a dismissal of my cultural background and personal boundaries, branding me as "weird" simply because I didn't meet the hug expectations or fit their criteria of familial interaction. This left my younger self feeling not only misunderstood but also pressured to conform to a norm that didn't align with my own upbringing and comfort levels.

Another memorable occasion occurred when I first met my now-husband's family. This time, the dynamics were slightly different but equally perplexing. One of his brothers, seemingly eager to establish a connection, insisted on talking about Jack Ma, the founder of Alibaba. He spoke about him as if we were somehow related or had a personal connection, which I found both amusing and bewildering. The reality is that there are over a billion Chinese people in the world, and the chances of Jack being my uncle are exceedingly slim. In fact, I knew very little about him beyond the fact that Alibaba is one of the major enterprises he has established. Despite my lack of knowledge, I felt compelled to engage in the conversation, perhaps out of a desire to show interest in my partner's family. However, this seemingly innocuous exchange soon became a recurring theme every time I visited them. Each visit, I'm bracing for another round of Uncle Jack discussions, as if it has become an unwanted tradition of sorts within the family dynamic.

Once again, my effort to engage with my husband's family led to a misunderstanding of cultural assumptions. It became evident that they assumed, since Uncle Jack and I share a similar ethnic background, I must be knowledgeable about this person within that culture. This assumption felt reductive, as it disregarded the unique experiences and backgrounds that shape each person's identity. To maintain a good relationship, I masked the fact that it's inappropriate to assume we all know each other just because we come from the same side of the world. Each time I encountered this topic, I found myself masking my discomfort and frustration, trying to balance my desire to stand up for my race while also preserving a connection with my partner’s family. It was a delicate balancing act, often requiring me to straddle two worlds, each with its own rules and norms.

The Complex Dynamics of Meeting the Parents

In family dynamics, especially within Asian cultures where familial expectations can be particularly pronounced, the expectations surrounding communication shift dramatically. The stakes seem higher, and the potential for offense looms large. This understanding is one of the reasons why I'm drawn to interracial relationships. Such partnerships often create a less hierarchical approach to family dynamics. In these contexts, there seems to be a greater chance of mutual respect for individual autonomy, allowing for a more balanced and understanding relationship between partners and their families. However, this isn't always the case, as one minute I think I've solved the cultural differences, yet I'm still battling with the neurodiverse misunderstandings. In these situations, I may inadvertently offend family members without realising it until much later, or sometimes, I might remain unaware of the offence altogether. This disconnect can be frustrating, as my intention is never to cause discomfort or disrespect.

Before I go too far down the gloomy road, this disconnect might seem like a major struggle, and while it can pose difficulties when meeting the parents, I don't see it as a loss or a personal failure. To me, relationships are intricate and multifaceted, involving two people who share their lives, experiences, and emotions. Each person brings their own history, values, and perspectives, which can create a deep connection but also challenges. Due to this complexity, it makes little sense for someone outside of the relationship—such as family—to decide whether two people are compatible.

Personal Philosophy on Relationships

Despite these experiences, I don't perceive them as losses or struggles. Instead, I maintain a personal philosophy that emphasises the autonomy of individuals in relationships. I firmly believe that I shouldn't wield the power to influence the romantic lives of those I care about, as I'm not the one living that experience; I'm merely an observer of their journey. Each person in a relationship is an individual with their own complexities, joys, and challenges. My perspective is limited, and I recognise that I only see a fraction of what their lives. Thus, it seems illogical for me to determine whether they're well-suited for one another based solely on my observations.

The Importance of Autonomy in Relationships

In my view, the decision to spend a lifetime together, whether that entails love, companionship, or even the occasional annoyance, should rest solely with the individuals involved in the relationship. They're the ones who experience the day-to-day realities of their partnership, and only they can genuinely assess their compatibility, happiness, and everything in between. While respecting parental figures is a significant aspect of my Asian heritage, I believe that this respect has its limits, especially when boundaries are crossed. If a parent’s behaviour becomes intolerable or overbearing, it can create tension and discomfort that's detrimental to the relationship. Thus, I suggest a more productive way which is to step back and allow those within the relationship to navigate their own paths, free from external pressure, judgment or influence. This perspective not only respects our autonomy but also alleviates the pressure on us to conform to expectations that may not align with our authentic self.

My expectation is simple: just as I don't interfere in others' romantic lives, I hope for the same consideration from parents. This mutual understanding can create a healthier environment for love to thrive, free from unnecessary external pressures. Being both autistic and Asian shapes my interactions and perceptions. I've learned that preserving my intersecting identity is paramount, and I should confidently embrace it in any social setting. While my bluntness can sometimes cause misunderstandings in familial settings, it also serves as a powerful tool in my personal and professional life. Ultimately, I believe in respecting individual choices in relationships, and I advocate for an approach that values open-mindedness and understanding, especially when it comes to the dynamics between partners and their families. This approach nurtures healthier relationships and allows us to truly honour our identity and the individuality of those we care about.

Care to share your anecdotes about meeting parents?